


An Unscheduled Visit

by Bethann, Minniemoggie, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: AU of Legendary Friendship and Desperate Hours AUs [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Discipline, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Fluff, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Humor, Spanking, frienship, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an immediate sequel to An Unscheduled Journey.  Faramir and Legolas visit Aglarond for their own safety, but at least one of them is a not so willing guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the notes at the beginning of this series

[Gimli POV] 

I sigh in relief when I finally see the hills of Helm’s Dike. Soon the great tower of the Hornburg will come into sight and then we will be almost home, though in this case I will bring my companions in through a back entrance rather than taking the long stairway down into the fortress itself as I normally would. The fewer outside folks who see us the better it will be.

It has been a long and frustrating journey, to say the least, for my traveling companions do not seem to feel the same urgency to get off the road as I do. All I want is to get the two of them out of harm’s way, but one thing after another has sought to prevent me from doing so. While I have done my best to keep focused on the goal of making haste, they have between them been determined to distract me. What with Legolas torturing himself and imagining reasons to be miserable and Faramir having strange premonitions and feeling the need to offer me unsolicited advice, I feel like I have spent more time soothing ruffled feathers and placating whims than anything else. A bunch of green human traders that should have known it was the wrong season to travel with such a heavily loaded wagon did not help the situation either. I am only grateful that I had the foresight to bring plenty of pipeweed for the journey, for without it I don’t know if I would have made it home with my senses still in tact. 

 

Of course even as I think this, I know I do not really mean it. At least not entirely. The words I said to my lad a few days ago were harsh, and even though I meant them sincerely, I should have realized he would take them too much to heart. I only wanted him to heed the warning and think carefully in the future about keeping vital information to himself. I did not wish him to agonize and suffer over it. But like most adolescents he feels things more intensely than a more mature person would and his own self-doubt over his ability to lead his folk makes him even more sensitive still. I should have taken the time to explain myself better and prevented him so much worry.

As for Faramir, his elven ancestry means he really does have a little of the sight, though he cannot always explain it or understand it himself. It would have been foolish in the extreme to ignore his warning, and we very well might have regretted it had we done so. And his concern over Legolas was all with the best of intentions too. I can hardly fault him for trying to be a good friend to the lad, though I will admit to finding some amusement in Legolas’ teasing him. As long as it doesn’t go too far of course. 

And I could no more leave those humans stuck in the mire than I could leave my own mother. 

Still it has been trying few days and I am very pleased to see the back of them. 

I am also pleased to see the back entrance of my caves, and Ari, the entrance guard who greets us warmly and takes charge of the horses and pony. He also says that he will see that my arrival is properly heralded, but I hold up a hand to prevent him from doing so. Part of my reason for entering through the back entrance was to give Legolas and Faramir time to adjust to being here before being gawked at and commented on by the general public. For tonight I do not wish to draw attention to my friends or myself. With that in mind, I hurry them along to my own private chambers, accompanied by guards who clear the corridors first so I will not be spotted. 

Faramir seems to have let go of his earlier worries for the moment and just admires the natural beauty of the caves, for even these ordinary corridors are shaped and lit to display them in the best possible way. I can hardly wait to show him the main entrance and the public halls, but that will have to wait for tomorrow. 

I sigh in relief when we make it to my door and then stand back so they can precede me inside, only to be stunned to find we are not alone. There is a fire in the fireplace and the distinct smell of baking bread, and I know right away who has come to call. I rush into the kitchen and she is there peeking into the oven. I hurry to lift her off her feet in a welcoming embrace.

“Mam, what brings ye here? I got no notice that ye were coming!”

“I wanted to surprise you for Durin’s Day,” she laughs, and then pretends to scold, “and after all my trouble I find you missing when I get here and now you are sneaking up on me like this. I did not hear the trumpets.”

“I did not wish to be announced,” I tell her. “I wanted a little time to myself first to get settled in again before having to deal with anything else.” 

Here she frowns a little. “Dorbryn said you had to go take care of some problem in Ithilien. I hope all is well.”

“Indeed it is, or it soon will be,” I assure her. “It is nothing for ye to worry over. Aragorn is taking care of the problem, aye, and look, I brought the problem child home with me!”

I wink and then step back so that she can see my guests and she nearly squeals with joy, pulling Legolas into a strong embrace that ends with her kissing him firmly on both cheeks and then immediately begins fussing.

“Problem child or no, it is good to see you, sweetling, only are you sure you are well? You look shattered.”

“We rode fast and hard and the weather was abysmal at the end,” I explain, when Legolas flushes and hesitates to speak. “Of course he is tired. We all are. We could all do with a bath and a real bed I think. It has been a difficult week.”

“Then I shall have a meal on the table in no time,” she tells me. “You all go freshen up a bit first. You too Faramir, love.” 

Faramir has been standing back a bit and watching this homey scene unfold, but she forces him to take part by taking him by the hand and then pulling him down where she can kiss his cheek as well. 

“How wonderful to see you again, laddie,” she continues, making Faramir smile at her enthusiasm. “Once you have had time to get your breath, I’d love to hear about that sweet lady of yours and your dear little lad. He must be growing like a weed! But never mind that, go on with ye. Ye’ll find plenty of hot water in the bathing chamber for I have kept the reservoirs full in case ye should return soon.”

Rather than sending my guests into the one empty guest chamber, she sweeps them both toward my own personal chambers, even while taking my hand to keep me beside her for the moment. 

“I must speak to ye before ye join the lads,” she tells me. “Your da’ could not come with me on the journey here and he did not wish me to travel alone for such a long distance, so he asked his kinsman to accompany me.”

I can see by her face that she is a bit hesitant to tell me who has come with her, which unsettles me more than a little. Mam is not one to skulk around an issue, so the fact that she does not wish to say tells me I will not like the answer at all. 

“Which kinsman?” I ask, skeptically. 

I find it hard to suppress a groan when she answers, “His cousin Dwalin.” Here she holds up a hand to stay any objections. “Now before ye say anything, keep in mind that he is close as a brother to your father since Oin died and Balin as well, and you know there aren’t many left who remember the quest to take back the Mountain. Not only that, but he is a warrior and an honored elder among our people, so you should show him due respect just for that. It is your duty to offer hospitality. He is kin after all. Besides, he is already set up in the other guest room.”

This time I really do groan, wondering if a second cousin once removed is close enough kin to qualify as someone who must be invited to stay in my rooms. Would not a guest suite suffice? And where am I going to put my real guests now that my distant cousin has already parked himself in my guest chambers? Before I have time to come up with an answer or say anything at all, the cranky old dwarf himself comes stalking out of the guest chambers.

“Ah! There ye are lad,” he bellows, pulling me into a crushing embrace and thumping me hard on the back before standing back to eye me critically. “Your Mam and me expected a proper dwarvish welcome only to find ye had gone off gallivanting to some elf settlement!”

“I did not know ye, were coming,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “and I was not gallivanting. I was dealing with a serious problem.”

He rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “Since when do the problems of elves become an issue to a dwarven lord especially with it being only two days until Durin’s Day? Next thing, ye’ll be forsaking these caves and take up living in the trees.”

“That is hardly likely, cousin,” I say. “And the Equinox celebration plans have been underway for weeks as ye can imagine, so there is nothing to worry about on that account either. I hope ye will find things to your satisfaction and that your accommodations here are comfortable.”

“They’ll do,” he growls, giving me a suspicious look. “Though I have no idea why ye find it necessary to have your guest chambers outfitted with furniture that will not fit any of your kin properly. It is a waste of space and good material to have such a long bed.”

“Cousin ye know very well that I have a frequent visitor who prefers the extra length. Ye’ve met Legolas and ye know of our friendship so why mention it? Whatever ye say won’t change the fact that the lad is like kin to me.”

“I have met him. Long before you did in fact. Why ye’d want to take up with a beardless, pointy eared…”

He cuts off his words when Faramir and Legolas choose this moment make an appearance, both with damp hair and looking much refreshed

“What in the name of Mahal…” Dwalin begins, but I loudly interrupt before he can say anything too offensive. . Right before my cousin’s shocked eyes, I place a protective hand on my elf’s shoulder and give it an affectionate squeeze. 

 

“Legolas, lad! Why don’t ye take Faramir to greet Dorbyn,” I suggest as my cousin continues to splutter in outrage. “She’ll be wrath with me if I keep ye to myself tonight and Greirr will be thrilled to see ye. Ye have time enough before the evening meal is ready, isn’t that so Mam?”

“Yes indeed,” Mam says in attempt to help me save the situation. “Take your time lads.”

As soon as the door closes I turn toward my not so welcome guest who by now is practically incandescent with rage. I hurry to have the first word before he can explode.

“I realize ye are upset and angry but the fact is ye knew about my relationship with Legolas before ye chose to travel here. Everyone here knows it, aye, and all have agreed to accept or at the very least tolerate the fact that he will continue to be a frequent guest as long as I am lord here,” I say, “And just in case ye have forgotten, cousin, I am Lord here.”

“I did remind ye, Dwalin,” Mam speaks up to support me. “The lad has been named dwarf kin by our family, and even Gloin cares for him very dearly. It is time to let go of the past. As Gimli says, ye knew of it.”

“Aye, I knew of it,” Dwalin hisses, “Though I did not expect to have it flaunted in my face. It is unnatural and disgraceful, is what it is, and on Durin’s Day no less. Surely ye do not intend to allow them to attend the festivities?”

“Legolas is the same as a son to me and as dwarf kin has that right,” I say, almost enjoying the scandalized expression on my cousin’s face. “Faramir is also very dear, and was personally invited here by me.”

“Unlike me, ye mean!” his eyes narrow and his brows knit together ominously, something that would have made my heart race in fear as a child.

“That I did not say,” I remind him, though I admit if only to myself that I might have been thinking it. Still I do my best to soothe ruffled feathers. “I am in your debt for escorting Mam here, and as my own kin, ye are more than welcome. However, that does not change the facts. I will have them both take vows of secrecy if that will make it easier for ye to swallow, but they will both be present, so ye might as well accept it.”

“I suppose ye’ll have these outsiders sweeping the graves of our ancestors next and taking part in Zârgharâf!” He accuses me. 

“There are no graves here yet to sweep,” I point out. 

This is a new settlement, barely four years old. So far we have been fortunate enough not to have any deaths. Of course the time will come soon enough, and if I am buried here myself when the time comes, there is no one more qualified than my elfling to care for my final resting place, especially at Mabon when the balance between the darkness and the light is perfect. It is a fitting symbol for the perfect balance we’ve managed to achieve between us as fighting partners and as kin. Besides he is the only son I will ever have, so who else should care for my grave?

I do not say this however, but only remind Dwalin that there is no need to worry about Zârgharâf either. 

“Faramir is like family to me, but has not yet been officially named dwarf kin, though considering his role in working with our folks in the removal of the evil in Minas Ithil, it could easily happen,” when I see my cousin roll his eyes at this I add, “Had he not taken the lead in doing so, that darkness could have become a real threat to the citizens of Aglarond in time. Still since there is no official recognition of kinship it might be upsetting to some for him to view the sacred Zârgharâf altar. I am certain he will understand.”

My kinsman continues to frown, but he nods and his features show the slightest sign of softening when he hears this news. Still his eyes become fierce again when he thinks of something else.

“But ye have named the other one dwarf kin. What of the elf?”

Being adopted into our clan gives my elfling the same rights as any other dwarven family member, though when it comes to these laws this is new ground so there is no precedent. As far as I know there has never been another elf, at least not in modern history, that has been given such a title. For now that does not matter though, since my lad does not qualify to attend that part of the celebrations for other reasons.

“Legolas will not be there either,” I say, “the lad is still underage.”

“Ah well! That is good then!” Finally his scowl is replaced with what almost passes as a pleasant expression. “In that case, it is good to see ye again cousin, and welcome home! However I will be finding somewhere else to stay. It is clear that there is not nearly enough room here for me and your guests! I may have to accept that they are here as ye say, but I will not live with out worlders! ”

Rather than arguing, I hurry to make other arrangements before he can change his mind. I am just summoning someone to help him out with his things when Legolas and Faramir return. Once the door has been closed behind him Legolas asks worriedly , “He isn’t leaving because of me is he?”

“The reason he is leaving isn’a important, Lamb,” I tell him adding under my breath, “the only thing that is important thing is that he is leaving.”

“Gimli!” Mam tries to scold, but she cannot hide her smile. “Ah well Dwalin is happier when he has something to growl over anyway,” she relents. “Here now sit down, all of ye and eat, before ye all fall asleep on your feet.”

But I am still covered in mud and road dust, so I join the others after finally having a chance to bathe and change to appropriate attire. By the time I join the others they are well into the meal, a very substantial one considering it was whipped together in the middle of the night. After raving over Mam’s cooking there is some discussion over sleeping arrangements. Since I had not known Mam would be here, things will have to be changed a bit. I had planned to give Legolas the room he always uses, that was designed with his taste and his taller height in mind and have Faramir use the room that Mam is now in. Of course now that is impossible. I turn toward Legolas first.

“Well laddie, looks like ye will just have to put up with my snoring,” I tell him, “ye have been here too many times to be considered a guest.”

Legolas shrugs, “It matters not. You snored last night as well, only then we were sleeping on the wet ground. At least tonight the snoring will be accompanied by a dry bed.”

“And no need to set up watches so we can sleep through the whole night,” Faramir points out. 

“Aye ye both make good points,” I nod, “ Wherever we sleep will be more comfortable than last night in the rain. Faramir, lad, ye are our special guest here, so ye will have the guest chamber,” I indicate Legolas’ room that Dwalin has evacuated, knowing Mam has already made up the bed again. Faramir bows slightly in thanks, and I can see that he would like to go there right away, but is too polite to leaves us so soon. Mam must see it too for she encourages him to do so.

“There is no reason to stand on formalities here, my dear,” she tells him, shooing him toward the chamber. “Sleep well and we will see ye in the morning.”

We all go to our respective chambers, and I am almost asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, though I rouse a little when Legolas speaks to me.

“Gimli?”

“Mmm yes lamb? What is it?”

“I just wanted to say…well… that Faramir isn’t staying in the guest room, you know.”

“Isn’t he?” I ask, not exactly sure what he is getting at.

“No, he is not,” Legolas explains further, “I am letting him stay in my room. You designed it for me.”

I am not sure why it is so important, but he seems to want me to acknowledge the difference.

“I did indeed,” I say, “And I thank ye for letting him use it.”

“Of course,” he says, through a cavernous yawn. “Faramir is a good friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Durin’s Song is from A Journey in the Dark, the fourth chapter of the second book of Fellowship of the Rings by J.R.R Tolkien. 
> 
> In this story Gimli’s nephew, Greirr is 11 years old, which we think is about 7 or so in human terms.

Gimli pov

We all sleep the sleep of the deserving, and I awaken to find Legolas brushing out his hair and preparing for the day, and looking considerably better than last night. I am sure a long restful sleep has gone a long way in repairing him both in body and in spirit. Seeing I am awake, he smiles at my reflection in the mirror.

“Finally,” he teases, “ I thought you meant to sleep the whole day away.”

“As if ye have been awake much longer! Ye haven’t even begun braiding your hair yet elfling.”

“ I will have you know I have already been up for several…well several minutes. But still it was before you.

He ducks out of the way of the pillow I throw at him and then begins braiding while I prepare for the day. He is just about to go out when I return from the bathing chamber, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

“Come sit with me lamb, I want to talk to ye,” I say and then chuckle when he looks apprehensive at the turn of phrase. I hurry to clarify my meaning. “There is no need to worry, lad, I only wish to ask ye a favor.”

“Oh? Of course, Elvellon. Anything.”

“It is just between the two of us,” I begin, “ but I am worried over Faramir. He is away from his wife and child and no doubt worried over them as well. Besides that, I do not believe he feels he should have been sent away even if he does appreciate the invitation to come here. I have promised to see to his safety and it will be compromised if he attempts to go off on his own. I intend to spend the day with him today, but over the next couple of days I will be swamped with preparations for Autumnal Equinox celebrations. I am asking ye to stay with him as much as ye can and let me know if anything…concerns ye. Do ye understand my meaning lamb?”

He nods slowly, “Aye, I believe so. You wish me to spy on Faramir and report to you if it looks like he is planning to bolt.”

“That is stating it plainly,” I chuckle, “But yes, that is one way to say it. Can ye do that for me?”

“I will do my best,” he promises.

I am happy with that, for Legolas takes oath giving as seriously as any dwarf. Besides that his promise will ensure that he will not become a flight risk himself, for he can hardly watch out for Faramir if he goes beyond the caves, can he? Not that I believe he intends to, but he could be swayed if the idea to do so was stated just right. But he will not break his word to me, so we are safe on that front at least.

When we exit the bedchamber it is to find Mam already sitting with Faramir at the kitchen table, plates with remnants of breakfast pushed aside while she admires a locket that Faramir is showing her. Inside it is a small sketch of his wife and his son, which Mam exclaims over with genuine delight.

“Such a fat and pretty baby. No doubt he is fair haired?”

“It is hard to say, yet,” Faramir answers, smiling, first at the locket and then at my mother, “He has very little hair as of yet, but the bits that are coming in, in back do appear to be blond.”

“With such attractive parents it is no wonder he is such a handsome boy,” she says, causing Faramir to flush slightly. “Ye have a lovely family, lad.”

Here she turns her attention to the two of us.

“And look what the cat’s finally dragged in, and the morning half gone already! Sit ye down and eat and then ye must show our Faramir around your caves.”

“There is no hurry,” Faramir demurs, as Mam bustles about cooking breakfast again, even though both Legolas and I try to tell her there is no need. We can take care of ourselves. But of course it does no good to say so. Lady Vonild will have her way and she is not keen to share ‘her’ kitchen with others.

She does allow us to help her clear the table but shoos us away right after, saying we will only get in her beard while she is trying to bake her famous pound cake in preparation for Durin’s Day. Faramir looks as if he is reluctant to leave her with all the washing up, but my elfling and I know it is better to let her have her way in such matters, so we encourage Faramir out into the corridor and then make our way to the main halls.

Faramir is duly impressed with just the corridors and the small caverns we pass, but when we arrive at the main entrance, he is nearly as speechless as I was the first time I saw it. Even now it is an awe inspiring sight. The beautiful shell like columns of dawn rose, saffron and white grow from ceiling to floor and their dream like shapes are reflected in pools as still and as perfect as glass. Gems and crystals and precious ore glint in the walls, where lamps of amethyst and amber are placed precisely to enhance their beauty. I have never looked upon it yet without a lump growing in my throat and it seems that Faramir is suitably taken with the sight as well.

“It looks like something from a story book,” he whispers, and then gasps when a single drop of water falls in the still pond, making the colors ripple and bend in the light.

“I am almost afraid to blink, or it might disappear,” he says, and then flushes when he sees Legolas smiling at this fanciful idea. “It is like something that could only exist in imagination,” he explain, apologetically.

I give Legolas a slight frown to indicate that he should leave off teasing and place a hand on Faramir’s shoulder.

“I know just how ye feel, laddie,” I tell him, “I have never looked upon it myself without thinking the same thing. The finest artists in Middle Earth could never capture it, nor could a poet’s words do it justice. It is something ye must see to believe. To think that it was used for all those centuries as merely storage space or a place to hide from enemies!”

“It is a terrible shame and waste,” Faramir agrees. “But you have remedied that quite nicely friend Gimli. I can see your love of this place in every lamp placement and every angle of lighting. It is a beautiful natural wonder that you have enhanced to a spectacular treasure.”

I do not even attempt to hide behind false modesty by demurring. What Faramir says is true. I take tremendous pride in the work that has been accomplished here, and I love these caves even more than the halls of Erebor. To me it is the most beautiful place in all of Middle Earth, but it is always nice to hear others agree with my assessment. Just like most first time visitors, Faramir doesn’t seem to know where to look, for there are wonders to be seen in every direction, and the colors that sparkle in the walls and floor seen to change as we move from place to place and see it from a new angle.

“It is stunning,” Faramir reiterates, “I have never seen anything like it. If only Eowyn could be with me, for I will never be able to properly describe it to her.”

“Well that is easily remedied, lad,” I laugh, slapping him on the shoulder, “Ye will just return another time and bring your family with ye. Ye’re welcome any time of course, no need to wait for an invitation.”

“We will certainly have to take you up on that offer,” Faramir says, “thank you, for the invitation, both the present one and the future.”

After that we explore different caves, some that have been enhanced and some that are still in there natural state. Of course many of them have not yet been tested for safety, and there are too many to see in one day, but other than a brief interruption or two from someone with a question regarding the preparations for Durin’s Day, I spend the entire day giving tours.

The next day, I have to leave it up to Legolas to entertain Faramir, for both Mam and Dorbryn are busy and I am wanted in meetings from morning until night over preparations for the Equinox. I am consulted over everything from who will be participating in Zârgharâf for the first time, to which ale should be served first and which will be saved for the end of the evening. The usual custom is to serve the best ale first, leaving the inferior for when everyone is too lit to notice, but fortunately this will not be a problem this year. I have just discovered that Mam came bearing gifts, and several barrels of Mistress Brynja’s black ale have been sent from our own King Thorin III Stonehelm of the Lonely Mountain. It should be a feast to remember!

I do take some time out late in the afternoon to meet with Legolas and Faramir regarding secrecy oaths. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t bother with such a thing, for I trust both of them implicitly to keep what they see during the private parts of the celebration to themselves, but I have to recall that there are other folks to consider and I that even suggesting the presence of out-worlders is shocking to some. To my way of thinking too much secrecy can lead to distrust and fear, and if we wish to be allied with other races of Middle Earth, some of that will need to be softened a little, but things will not change over night, so I have agreed to the oath taking.

The lads meet me in my office a short while before the ones who are to witness the event will arrive, for I wish to prepare them for what is to be expected. Once I tell them what will take place, and why it must be done, Faramir immediately offers to bow out of taking part in the festivities.

“I wouldn’t like to make anyone uncomfortable,” he tells me. “I can entertain myself well enough for one day.”

“I can stay with him,” Legolas offers, though it is easy to see he is not pleased with the idea. But he has made a promise to me to watch out for Faramir, and if Faramir stays behind, he will feel duty bound to do the same. However none of that is necessary and so I tell them.

“Nonsense! Ye are my adopted kin, lamb, and have as much right as any dwarf to be there no matter what narrow-minded dogmatists think. And Faramir, ye are my invited guest and I will not have ye treated like an unwanted intruder. There is a part at the beginning that can only be participated in by someone who is coming of age and observed by folks who have participated in the past at their own coming of age, so ye will both have to miss that bit, but other than that ye will be present, or I will know the reasons why. How can we expect to change prejudicial thinking if we never do anything differently than it has been done before? ”

Legolas nods in agreement. Faramir still looks ready to object, but I hold up a hand before he can say anything.

“Nay, lad, I willn’a have it!” I insist. “There are benefits to being Lord here, and if I say ye are welcome, then ye are welcome.”

“And you will probably find that most people will be pleasant and happy to see you there anyway,” Legolas placates. “Only a small minority will have anything negative to say, and they won’t say it in front of Gimli, or Lady Vonild for that matter, so if you just stay close to one of them all night you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“I wasn’t so worried about running into, ‘trouble’ as making others feel uncomfortable,” Faramir explains, “It is their holiday after all…”

But I am finished with this topic and so I tell him.

“Folks who chose to live here knew there would be some changes from the old ways before they came in the first place. That is all there is to it. I will not force ye, of course, Faramir, but I will be very sorry indeed if ye choose not to attend, and I canna guarantee ye won’t offend Lady Vonild if ye refuse. She has become rather fond of ye, lad, and she would worry over ye if ye were absent.”

After that he argues no further and when the witnesses arrive he and Faramir willing take the oath not to speak of what they see during the ceremonial parts of the festivities without express permission to do so. I have chosen highly respected folks to act as witnesses, for the acceptance of the oath means others will follow their lead. Mistress Lilja, the primary healer, Master Vakri, our oldest resident and a respected elder are a mong those present. Also I have asked my tetchy cousin to be there as well since Dwalin was the one who was so vocal about not wanting outworlders involved in our private rituals. He does not look entirely approving even so, but he does nod at the end of the oath taking to indicate his approval, so he can have nothing more to say on the matter, which was my goal in the first place!

By the time I finally arrive back to my quarters it is well beyond midnight and everyone else has already retired for the evening. Legolas awakens a little when I gently push him out of the middle of the bed, but only long enough to wish me a good night and roll over toward the edge to make room for me. As I settle in I am satisfied that everything is in place for the Equinox tomorrow, which will begin in only a few hours. The main event doesn’t begin until later in the evening, but in the morning there will be a carefully prepared meal with the family, and special prayers for our own particular loved ones who have gone beyond the veil before us.

I awaken to he sound of childish laughter and after I have prepared for the day, find my elf entertaining my eleven year old nephew by teaching him a game that seems to involve knocking together some sort of hard nut or seed that is attached to a string. I do not understand how the scoring works, but it is loud and lively and that is all that matters to Greirr. Dorbryn attempts to quiet him, but Thorûr points out that it is probably best that he gets his ‘fidgets’ out now before the part of the day when he will have to sit quietly for a while. And so the game continues until Mam calls everyone to the table.

It is the first time that Legolas has been with us for this particular holiday so it is a very special beginning to the Equinox for me. Faramir again offers to bow out of taking part in the prayers for ancestors, in order to respect our privacy and the sacredness of the occasion, but Mam only frowns at him and tugs on a lock of his hair at the suggestion. He opens his mouth to explain, but Greirr settles things by sitting in Faramir’s lap so that he cannot leave even if he wishes to. This causes smiles all around, and there are no more objections after that.

The pleasant meal and enjoyable time with family means the morning passes quickly and before I know it everyone is dressed in their finest clothing and preparing for the big event of the day.

Mam looks everyone over carefully and having decided we will not shame her, leads us through the corridors that lead to the main hall. Legolas and Faramir will stay with Greirr in a chamber just out of sight of the alter during the first part of the ceremony and will join us on the cue I have given them, along with others who do not yet qualify to see that part. Mostly older children keep an eye on the younger ones, and bring them to their parents at the right moment, but a few young mothers with infants and others who are unable to participate for various will wait here as well. Mam, Dorbryn and Thorûr walk out together to take their places at the high table, while I wait a moment or two longer to make an entrance after everyone is seated.

As I make my way toward the raised dais made of a large flat stone, the crowd stands and all chatter ceases. The scent of myrrh and sage permeates the air from the burning incense, and I see a queue of ten young adults standing next to the alter of Zârgharâf waiting to make their oath. Each young adult there has already offered me an oath of fealty on his or her coming of age birthday, but this is something different. Mabon is a most sacred time of year, a time when we celebrate balance in all things and the leaving behind of one phase and entering into another. The warmth of summer is being left behind for colder harsher weather as the year grows older, but the dying plants fertilize the earth for next year’s growth.

It is also a time to celebrate and recognize those who have left childhood behind in the past year and moved on to a new phase of life, one where some childish pleasures have been left behind, but new rights of adulthood have been achieved. It is a great honor to offer one’s oath of service to his people and to his community, and so this is the time to make that promise. Anyone who has taken part in Zârgharâf, has sworn to put the good of his folk above the good of himself. It is not something that is expected of a child, so those who have not reached adulthood are not allowed near the alter for fear of a rash oath being made by someone who is not yet ready for such a responsibility. For these young folks before me today, it will be the first time to have seen the altar in their lives, though they have been clearly instructed on what they must do.

I begin the proceedings by offering a prayer to our maker, Aulë, the one who awakened the first of the dwarven fathers. The rite of passage ceremony does not take long. Each candidate comes forward to stand before the alter, placing on it an unpolished yellow agate or bit of lapis, besides dropping some dried grain into the fire that is burning there. The grain symbolizes the second harvest, or second stage of life, and the rough gem a symbol for the hope to polish and beautify what is inside.

The oath itself is offered to the audience rather than directly to me, and then I place a hand on the oath giver’s head in acceptance of his promise. After that he or she goes back to proud families, the fire is extinguished and the altar covered.

Then it is time to bring in the youngsters and others who have been waiting to join us. Drums echo through the chamber as a signal for everyone to come together. I continue to stand on the dais as the rest of the crowd pours in, watching for my own family to come forward and join the top table. I see Faramir and Legolas with Greirr, who attempts to sprint to his mother when he spots her, only to be prevented by my elf who just barely catches him by the belt before he gets beyond reach. I see Legolas lean down to whisper something to my nephew that makes the child stand up straighter and walk head held high in a comically dignified manner. I manage to stifle a desire to laugh and I do my best to stand perfectly still and keep my expression serious, but when my lad gets close and looks up at me, I can’t help catching his eye for a split second and offering a quick wink hoping on one else notices this small breach in decorum.

When everyone is in their proper place, the drumming stops and my captain of the guard comes forward, handing me a ceremonial axe, not the one that was used by Durin himself, for that one was recovered from Moria and now resides in Erebor, but a beautiful replica of the original. It is double bladed, large, and perfectly balanced. The axe head is decorated with runes and dwarvish symbols and the handle is set with jewels at the top. At the very tip of the haft is a large round crystal prism that has been attached. It is a pleasure to feel the weight of it in my hands.

The next part of the ceremony requires perfect timing. I look up at the ceiling high above at a small vent that has been cut there. I wait until I see just the slightest hint of light from the full moon-thank goodness it isn’t a cloudy night-and then I signal to folks who are standing next to the lamps. As one they blow them out, leaving us in total darkness. There is a general gasp of appreciation from the audience for this is the true start to Durin’s day, which begins with embracing the darkness. I begin speaking in Khuzdul,  
“Without the darkness there is no light…”

It is meant to seem like a faceless voice in the darkness, though the effect is slightly marred by the loud whisper of my nephew translating for Faramir’s benefit no doubt. He is duly hushed, so lowers his voice to a more acceptable level as I continue.

“Without the night there is no day. The soil dies a little each day, and we must embrace this slow descent into dark before we can truly appreciate the light when it returns. Was not our father Durin, himself in darkness before he was awakened by his maker? For life to exist, there must be perfect harmony between darkness and light.”

Having hopefully taken just enough time, I begin to sing the traditional song of Durin’s day, singing the first verse alone and unaccompanied by instruments.

_“The world was young, the mountains green,_   
_No stain yet on the moon was seen,_   
_No words were laid on stream or stone_   
_When Durin woke and walked alone._   
_He named the nameless hills and dells;_   
_He drank from yet untasted wells;_   
_He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,_   
_And saw a crown of stars appear,”_

Here I raise the axe above my head just as the light of the moon lines up above the vent causing bright moonlight to spill over the weapon. I continue the verse as the light moves.

 

_”As gems upon a silver thread,_   
_Above the shadow of his head.”_

I turn the axe so that the light hits the prism, causing the light to bend and refract, bouncing off of strategically placed mirrors. For a moment the hall is flooded with spectacular colors and then the moment is over. Lamps are lit again, I place the axe across my shoulders and everyone joins in with the next verses of the song.

_“The world was fair, the mountains tall,_   
_In Elder Days before the fall_   
_Of mighty kings in Nargothrond_   
_And Gondolin, who now beyond_   
_The Western Seas have passed away:_   
_The world was fair in Durin's Day.”_

Next musicians begin to play and the sound swells throughout the caverns and the singing continues. I notice with some pride that my elf recalls the words, and that Faramir is also attempting to sing, no doubt having been coached yesterday while I away. It is a magnificent sound.

_”A king he was on carven throne_   
_In many-pillared halls of stone_   
_With golden roof and silver floor,_   
_And runes of power upon the door._   
_The light of sun and star and moon_   
_In shining lamps of crystal hewn_   
_Undimmed by cloud or shade of night_   
_There shone for ever fair and bright._

_There hammer on the anvil smote,_   
_There chisel clove, and graver wrote;_   
_There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;_   
_The delver mined, the mason built._   
_There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,_   
_And metal wrought like fishes' mail,_   
_Buckler and corslet, axe and sword._   
_And shining spears were laid in hoard.”_

_“Unwearied then were Durin's folk;_   
_Beneath the mountains music woke:_   
_The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,_   
_And at the gates the trumpets rang”_

Then the music stops and I am left to sing the last verse alone once more.

_The world is grey, the mountains old,_   
_The forge's fire is ashen-cold;_   
_No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:_   
_The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;_   
_The shadow lies upon his tomb_   
_In Moria, in Khazad-dûm,_   
_But still the sunken stars appear_   
_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_   
_There lies his crown in water deep,_   
_Till Durin wakes again from sleep._

There are several heartbeats of silence and then a great deafening cheer erupts. It is time now for the feast to begin!

XXXX

 

[Legolas POV]

It has been several days now since we reached Aglarond and tonight will be the Autumnal Equinox, a dwarven celebration I have not yet witnessed. I am quite looking forward to it, although some parts of the actual ceremony are off limits to me because of my age. Still at least this time I will not be the only one sitting out, for Faramir as an outworlder is also unable to attend the first part of the ceremony. We are going to sit with Greirr and hopefully keep him quiet and clean, something which I think even with the both of us there may prove quite difficult. Greirr seems to attract dirt just as Estel was used to do when he was a child. Perhaps it is something to do with mortal kind. I am sure I never managed to get so dirty when I was an elfling.

We will also be called upon to be on our best behavior and dressed in our finest garments. I was a little concerned over this for we left Ithilien and Gondor so swiftly that I had no thought as to what clothing to bring with me, but when I mentioned this to Mam this morning she merely laughed and pinched my chin telling me that fortunately Arwen had more foresight than the menfolk and had arranged for formal clothing for both me and Faramir to be sent from Minas Tirith. The trunks arrived yesterday apparently, and Mam and Dorbryn have seen to it that the clothes have been hung up and pressed so that we will look as fine as everyone else present. I am not one who enjoys formal clothes but I am grateful for Arwen’s thoughtfulness in sending robes after us as she did, for now Faramir and I will be able to represent our people properly at what is a very special time for the dwarven community here in Aglarond.

Today has been a good one so far with a special meal at the start of it with just the family present, but fortunately not Dwalin. He would have certainly put a damper on the proceedings and his face would likely have soured the milk as well. Perhaps I am being unfair to him, for he actually managed to summon up at least a brief nod of approval when Faramir and I took our oath last evening. Maybe he is softening. I snort to myself, for that is not very likely.

Greirr has been in good form, very happy to learn new games and activities that Faramir and I have come up with to keep him busy during first meal. He is inquisitive and quick to learn and he has taken to Faramir really well and Faramir seems to like him as well which is good for I fear that my friend is missing his son very much.

Still it has been a strange few days and I find I am more than a little disquieted by what has been happening.

Our welcome from Mam was cheerful enough. I am so happy that she is here. Everything is different, somehow better, when Mam is around and I am not just thinking of her superb cooking skills. It is far more than that but it is hard to put it into words. I suppose it has something to do with her being a mother and grandmother, but she makes everyone feel special and loved, and comfortable. Even Faramir has come under her spell and loves her as he would his own mother. Perhaps that is it. We both lost our mothers when we were very young and so we especially enjoy her care. Gimli says she spoils us but he smiles when he says it so I do not think he is serious and I know he loves having her here as much as I do.

And of course Dorbryn, Thorûr and Greirr have made us welcome as well. Greirr in particular likes to have two new playmates to entertain him it seems. In fact he appears to be quite sure that Faramir and I have been brought here for no other purpose but to play games with him.

Faramir, was quite anxious about meeting them but I assured him that he had no need to be for Dorbryn and Thorûr have the same open attitude to race as Gimli. Most of the dwarves here do, for Gimli would not have them here otherwise. Dorbryn will eventually be very like Lady Vonild. She is already a matron of some standing in the community here and her husband Thorûr is a great fellow and has a keen sense of humor while their son Greirr is full of life and mischief and once he got over his initial shyness he has taken to Faramir very well and I think it assuages some of Faramir’s sadness over being parted from Elboron to play with Greirr as he does.

But there have been others who have been less welcoming one in particular Master Dwalin.

He had apparently escorted Mam here and had made himself comfortable in the chamber I usually use but once he became aware that Gimli had dragged home his ‘pointy eared brat’ as he describes me and then to make matters worse had brought along another outworlder as well, he soon decided to move to other accommodations. How Gimli managed that move I do not know for Faramir and I were sent off out of the way. I would have given much to have heard the exchange between my guardian and crusty old Dwalin but of course I did not.

I was able to tell Faramir what it was that caused Dwalin to dislike me so much, and succeeded in making him laugh at my description of the barrel escape and my part in it. In reality Dwalin has little affection for anyone, and I know I should be more sympathetic for he has lost much including his king and his brother, but he makes it very hard to strike even a modicum of normal conduct when he keeps growling and muttering whenever I come into view.

But it is not Dwalin that has been of greatest concern for me but Faramir. Gimli was relieved when the towering structures of Helms Deep came in sight. Faramir and I were less pleased for we had been forced away from our homes when we both believed we should have been allowed to remain and take part in the hunt for whoever is hunting us.

For Faramir there was the added anxiety of how his presence here would be seen by the dwarves to be added to his worry over what may be happening in Ithilien and Minas Tirith during his enforced absence, but I expected him to have settled down a little by now and for a while, when he was exploring the caverns with Gimli and I and talking with the librarian he seemed to be enjoying himself.

Certainly his first glimpse of the grandeur of the Glittering Caves caught him by surprise, I thought it was quite amusing how his jaw dropped, and would have teased him about it save that Gimli sent a meaningful look in my direction, and muttered into my ear that I had reacted no differently the first time I saw the caves in all their glory. I still think it is odd though that he should talk of bringing Eowyn to see them. Surely she has seen them before, but of course not since they have been enhanced and maybe she never ventured into the deeper caverns. And of course like all of us she had rather more to think about than the beauty of the Glittering Caves at the time.

Faramir also enjoyed the day we spent in the library. Grór, Gimli’s lore master and librarian, was very pleased to have a fellow scholar and lore master to talk with. I was soon bored beyond measure and would have deserted the pair of them but I had given my word to Gimli that I would look after Faramir so I kicked my heels and watched the dust motes as they floated about the glow lanterns. Faramir did try to get me interested in some of what they were discussing and in the scrolls that Grór produced but really it was hard to be enthusiastic about ancient histories and myths of the longbeards and the building of Minas Tirith. But at least Faramir looked to be enjoying himself, which was the reason for our being there. It has been the same on the other days. If we can but keep him busy and interested, Faramir seems to be accepting of being in Aglarond but I have noticed that when we are alone or quiet his mind seems to wander almost as much as his feet. He has walked me all over the outer cave system, demanding to know where such a hallway went or how the air is circulated through the great open vents that lead up into the mountain, how many guards stand at the entrances and how secure I believe Aglarond to be. Why he is so interested I cannot tell, I can only think that he is concerned with his safety, although how he can think we are threatened here so far below ground I do not know. Still I have attempted to appease him by answering his questions as best I can and have humored him by introducing him to the guards and showing him the open balconies high up in the cliff face where the night guards take their station once the great stone doors are closed.

I wonder if perhaps Faramir is feeling too enclosed. I know I find it hard to be under ground for long periods without being able to feel the wind on my face and see the stars but I understand that presently it is for the best. With Gimli’s blessing I have spent some hours with the night guard just watching the stars for so high up are the balconies that no one would be able to see me even if they were looking. Perhaps I should ask Faramir to join me there one night. It might help him as it does me and it would certainly ease my mind a little for I can see my friend is very unhappy and not just unhappy but angry too.

Only yesterday we had quite a falling out over things. It was just after letters had been delivered to Gimli including ones from Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth.

There were none for us at least not addressed to us, which should not have been a surprise since we are not even supposed to be here but Faramir took exception to the fact that he got news of his family ‘second hand’ as it were. I was quite shocked actually, although given his foxy colored hair perhaps I should not have been for beneath that calm exterior he has quite a temper very like his half-brother Boromir. I share his frustration truly I do, but it can hardly be accounted Gimli’s fault and he can scarcely be blamed for their being no new information on our would-be assassins.

Once Faramir and I were alone I told him he should not take his anger out on my guardian who has offered both his home and protection.

“I do not wish to be protected,” he growled, “I want to be involved.”

“As do I,” I attempted to placate him, “but we are here under orders from Aragorn and if you cannot accept that he has a right as a father to try to protect you, at least you owe him your obedience as your liege lord.”

“Aragorn could at least keep us informed as to what is going on”

I quite agreed with him but felt it would be better for both of us if I pointed out that he would no doubt do so when there was something to say.

“It is only a few days, gwador. In all likelihood it is still thought we are in the Citadel and recall that two of our folk are putting themselves at risk by pretending to be us.”

In hindsight this was perhaps not the brightest thing to have said but I meant well, all I achieved was for Faramir to grunt, “Exactly so!” and go off to shut himself up in his… well my bedchamber. I left him to sulk for a few hours and when next I saw him he apologized for his short temper and all seemed well again, at least on the surface but it is increasingly plain to me that Faramir is deeply unhappy and increasingly frustrated by our incarceration.

I would talk my concerns over with Gimli save that he has much to do with preparations for the Equinox and I do not want to cause further trouble for Faramir, for while I cannot claim to know him as well as others I recognize that he is chafing at this forced removal from his home and family and at being kept away from what is happening for like myself he prefers to be personally involved in his own concerns. Perhaps once the ceremonies for the Equinox are over Faramir will relax a little more and begin to enjoy our enforced visit.

I have already come to the conclusion that while I would have preferred to have stayed in Ithilien to find out who is attempting to take my life, it is my own fault that I am here and I had better be prepared to make the best of the situation. Had I been more open and spoken of what was happening earlier and asked for help I would not have been hauled off so ignominiously and not caused so much anger and fear for those who have me in their care.

So it behooves me to show a properly penitent face to my guardian and to do my best to keep Faramir contented in as far as I am able.

I slip down deeper into the water as I am currently indulging in a long hot bath before dressing for the ceremony tonight. Dwarven expertise means that there is always an abundance of hot water available so although I have followed Gimli into his granite bath I have not been forced to make do with cold.

Of course there is also a bath in the bedchamber I normally make use of but it was quite right that Faramir took that chamber once Dwalin had vacated it. I told Gimli so, when he first said I might have to share his bedchamber, and I think he wondered at how proprietorial I had become over my room. But it is my room and while I do not begrudge it to Faramir-indeed I would sooner it was him than Dwalin-I would have preferred to have offered it’s use myself.

A thundering knock on the door puts an end to my musings as Gimli demands to know if I am intent on turning into a fish. Reluctantly I haul myself out of the water and begin to dress.

Faramir is sitting in Gimli’s bedchamber already dressed in his finery, Arwen has done well for he is the epitome of elegance, wearing the calf length over tunic that has become popular in the court of Gondor with a deep blue shirt beneath and black breeches and boots. The insignia of both Gondor and Ithilien is woven into the over tunic in silver very appropriate for the prince of the land of the moon. He is wearing the circlet Aragorn presented him with when he was proclaimed Prince of Ithilien. I for my part am attired in silver and light green, the long over robe being silver lined with green velvet, and embroidered with a leaf motif. I have also donned my circlet, for I wish to do Gimli proud on this special day.

Mam inspects us all and decides that we pass muster. She beams at Faramir and tells him he is looking very handsome which makes him blush and while I am grinning at this she then tells me that I look as pretty as a picture which effectively drives away any desire I might have had to laugh even though I can see Gimli’s dark eyes dancing as I scowl at what I am sure Mam thinks is a compliment.

“Now ye know the signal?” Mam asks us for the third time having settled Greirr in between Faramir and myself in the hall where we will wait until the first part of the ceremony is over. She then adjures Greirr once more to do as he is bid and make his Mam and Da proud. We all nod obediently and she kisses each of us in turn and then waits to take Gimli’s arm. He spares a moment to give us all a beaming smile of approval and he squeezes my shoulder, a sure sign that he is pleased with me which leaves me feeling that all this finery is well worth it for once. Then they are gone and the doors close and we sit and wait.

I have taken the precaution of bringing with me some string and Faramir and I introduce Greirr to the art of playing what mortals call ‘Cats Cradle’ in Eryn Lasgalen we have a different name for it, Spider Silk but I do not mention that merely helping Greirr to loop the strings over his fingers so that he can make the various patterns. We are so engrossed in this that the sound of drums beating out and the opening of the doors take us all by surprise and I have to be very quick indeed to stop Greirr racing into the chamber ahead of everyone, so keen is he on showing Dorbryn his new skill.

I whisper to him that he must uphold the honor of his house and walk ahead of Faramir and I to show us the way it should be done and he straightens his shoulders and steps forward his head held high. Faramir grins at me as we follow and then we too straighten our faces into suitable seriousness and pace up to the high table where Gimli awaits.

Dwarven ceremonials are always spectacular and deeply moving, and what I am privileged to observe of this marking of the Equinox is as beautiful as any other I have witnessed.

The drums echo around us as we make our way through the long lines of tables to the dais where Gimli stands. I have come to think of drums as being uniquely dwarven. There is something earthy, deep, mysterious about them like a stone heart beating far beneath the earth.

Drums are akin to the dwarven race itself, resilient, loyal; incorruptible I find it quite moving to listen to them and to watch the assembled dwarves move to their rhythm.  
Gimli, looking very lordly, watches us approach and then gives me a surreptitious wink. I have to duck my head so that others will not see me grin in response.

As everyone finds their places with their family members the drums cease and all is silent and still with even the youngest dwarflings being quiet as if they know the importance of what is to come.

The captain of the guard comes forward bearing a replica axe of the one used by Durin himself. Light flashes and gleams off the jewels set in the handle and the crystal in the haft.

Gimli takes the axe and lifts it high before settling it in his grasp and the silence grows all the more complete as if we are all holding our breath.

The hall is plunged into darkness on a signal from Gimli and we all look upwards seeing through a long vent the light of the moon.

Gimli begins to speak and I hear the power in his voice and in his words

“Without the darkness there is no light…”

Greirr, who is helpfully translating for Faramir’s benefit, is hushed by Mam.

At the end of his speech Gimli begins to sing, his voice ringing out through the darkness offering hope and renewal .

_“The world was young, the mountains green,_   
_No stain yet on the moon was seen,_   
_No words were laid on stream or stone_   
_When Durin woke and walked alone._   
_He named the nameless hills and dells;_   
_He drank from yet untasted wells;_   
_He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,_   
_And saw a crown of stars appear,”_

I see him raise the axe above his head as moonlight spills through the vent catching and enhancing the light as it strikes the jewels and moves steadily up the raised haft.  
When the light hits the crystal the light is reflected through the help of mirrors and the colors of the jewels dance from one side of the cavern to the other as if chasing each other through the hall it is both beautiful and full of mystery as falling stars are in the night sky. Then the lamps are re-lit, and as Gimli lowers the axe to his shoulder we all begin to sing. The verse is as full of meaning to me as an elf as it is to all the dwarves present.

_“The world was fair, the mountains tall,_   
_In Elder Days before the fall_   
_Of mighty kings in Nargothrond_   
_And Gondolin, who now beyond_   
_The Western Seas have passed away:_   
_The world was fair in Durin's Day.”_

The sound of our voices blend and ring out, mine, Gimli, Faramir, elf, dwarf and man altogether which has to be good for the future of Arda. The musicians play on lute and pipes and the drums continue their own music. Next musicians begin to play and the sound swells throughout the caverns and the singing continues until the last verse when we all fall silent so that Gimli, as Lord of Aglarond, can complete the ritual. He intones the last verse unaccompanied and I marvel again at the power and beauty he can bring to the words.

_There lies his crown in water deep,_   
_Till Durin wakes again from sleep_

He finishes and all falls silent as we all mark in our own way the turning of the year then a great roar goes up. Axes are beaten on the tabletops and as Gimli lays the great axe across the top of the table the feasting begins.

There is much laughter and merriment and of course a great deal of ale. I lean across to where Faramir is sitting and quietly warn him that the black beer is very potent and that he should take care. He nods and I notice later that he is actually adding water to the ale, something I am not at all sure Gimli would approve of, but if it means it spares Faramir a sore head tomorrow I believe it may be no bad thing.

Gimli and Mam ensure that Faramir is well entertained and his plate filled with all the finest foods on offer, but I sense in him an uneasiness with his surroundings, although he is doing his best to hide it.

After the feast comes the dancing. Here again the great drums beat out the rhythm as each family in turn joins the dance. Of course Gimli, as lord, goes first with his family and guests. Our hands link together as we move in a stately manner around the cleared hall, Faramir and I dance between Mam and Dorbryn and since Faramir has been well taught it does not take him long to pick up the rhythm or the steps. I even catch a glimpse of Dwalin dancing although he has made sure he is far enough away from me to be sure he will not be required to hold my hand.

Once the first dances are over many folk return to eating, drinking and singing. I know from experience that the celebrations will go on for many hours probably until dawn and that they will become louder and more raucous as the beer in the barrels goes down. Shortly after midnight Dorbryn takes a sleepy Greirr away and Mam also retires. Faramir, Thorûr and I remain and Faramir takes the opportunity of a lull in the music to tell Gimli how much he has enjoyed tonight and how he appreciates all the kindness shown to him.

“I apologize for my poor attitude over the last few days” he adds “but be assured I am properly appreciative of all you have done for me.”

Gimli pats his hand, “here now lad, I know it, just as I know how hard it is for ye away from your wife and son, aye and away from where ye would like to be at the center of what is going on, but it is for the best.”

Faramir does not answer this merely reiterating how grateful he is for Gimli’s kindness and hospitality. “I hope you know how much I respect and care for you. I would do nothing to hurt you deliberately.”

Gimli gives him an odd look for that, “aye I know it lad and if ye are concerned over your shortness of temper yesterday ye can forget it for none was harmed by it. A few hot words is all it was. I will write to Aragorn tomorrow to ask how things are progressing and ye may be certain ye will be the first to hear his reply.”

Dwalin then catches Gimli’s attention. Faramir after sitting quietly for a moment or two tells me he is going to retire as he has a headache, I offer to escort him but he says not to bother.

“I am all but asleep now,” he says, “there is no need for you to leave the party on my account. Thank you for all you have done for me, Legolas, and know I am always your friend.”

On these words he takes his leave of Gimli and Thorûr and departs leaving me staring after him thoughtfully. Faramir’s choice of words both to me and to Gimli seem strange almost like a farewell. Then I shake my head and tell myself that I am being foolish. More than likely Faramir is just tired. The feast has been a long one and the drink strong. He will feel better in the morning I hope.

By the time Gimli and I reach his quarters it is very late or very early depending on your point of view and all is quiet apart from Mam’s sonorous snoring. I grin at Gimli and whisper that now I know where he gets it from. He flicks my ear in retaliation and we are both about to ready ourselves for bed when there is a knocking on the outer door.

Gimli hurries to open it to find one of the night guards standing there. My heart sinks as I hear what he has to say.

“I am sorry my lord to come to you so late, but we have caught an intruder. That is… well not quite an intruder, as much as someone trying to get out, at least we think he was trying to get out. He won’t answer us and we thought we had better call ye to come to him for he is half way up one of the ventilation shafts and he’s refusing to come down.”

“Who is?” Gimli demands

“Why your guest sir, Lord Faramir.”


	3. Chapter 3

[Faramir POV] 

I hear the dwarven guards below me calling out for me not to worry, that they have sent for help. This is not the comfort to me that they must imagine it is. I groan and shake my head. This night has gone so beyond badly that I just have to shake my head and smile, before trying again to pull myself loose from where my belt has gotten caught on the rocks. 

A mere half an hour before, I had been running late but otherwise on target to complete my objective. After making my excuses to Legolas and leaving the celebration, I went briefly back to Legolas’ room to disarrange my sheets and make the bed look as if I had just gotten up to take a walk, rather than departing the caves entirely. I left a letter addressed to Gimli on the desk, but partially under a cup I’d borrowed from the kitchen. A place where it will easily be found once they begin looking for me, but not where it would raise suspicions if someone just glanced into the room. 

It had not been easy, arranging my escape from Gimli’s glittering realm. I had not even been sure, until just today, that I would even go ahead with it. It was the lack of any word from my father, or Gimli from his Helmsdeep contacts, about the suspicious silk traders the merchants we aided on the road told us of. It is unlikely that they would be connected to the plot to kill Legolas and I in Gondor, however, it is a lead which must be checked out. The little information Gimli did pass onto me was not heartening. 

My conscience does trouble me. I know that I am betraying Gimli’s trust, and that of Legolas, as well. Not to mention defying my own father, in deed if not in word. He asked me to agree to obey Gimli as I would him, but I did not actually give him my word that I would do so. And, in any case, I dance a fine line with respect to Aragorn’s orders and wishes when I think that he is wrong. It should not shock him that I treat Gimli’s the same. Gimli has not, in fact, ordered me to stay in the caves. I know that he expects me to do so – that he has said that things will go better for all of us if I do. 

I know, as well, that he wishes to protect me – and Legolas - from whomever is threatening us. In my letter, I absolve Gimli of any such responsibility with respect to me, as well as apologizing to him, and asking him to extend my apologies to Legolas and also to Lady Vonild, for leaving so abruptly although I do not expect that Lady Vonild has been told the whole alarming tale. I also offer Gimli a selection of plausible cover stories to explain my sudden departure, so that it will not reflect poorly on me as guest or him as host, at least not in the public eye. 

After preparing that letter, I poured myself a skin of the inexpensive wine that Lady Vonild uses for cooking. Then I departed from Gimli’s spacious quarters, and I wandered a bit. I went to one of the larger caverns, where the starlight reflects off of the water. I have made this a habit, of an evening. Then I take the path that would have brought me to the library, had I not ducked off towards one of the lesser known tunnels I had convinced Legolas and the young guards Vili and Nyri to show me. 

At the end of this tunnel is a narrow shaft leading up to day hole, a place where the sun and the moon shine down into the caverns. The entrance to the shaft leading up to the day hole is covered with a locked grate. Nyri had explained that the grate was to prevent animals from crawling into the caves, it is removed for cleaning the tunnels and sometimes for the dwarves to scale up the ones which are large enough. This particular one, and several of its fellows, they had assured me were too narrow. Legolas and I had both disagreed.

There was only one way to truly find out. So, late in the small, dark hours after Durin’s Day, I pulled one of my lockpicks from the interior of my boot and set to finessing the lock on the grate by the dim light of one glow-lamp. That was the first delay in my self-assigned mission. It took me nearly an hour to pick a simple lock. My grandfather and his spies who trained me during my summers in Dol Amroth would be appalled. I think it is more that they have just never had to use a lockpick made by men on a lock crafted by dwarves, but at the last I do succeed. Climbing the shaft also takes longer than I had expected. 

I’ve done a little rock-climbing, more scrambling about in the cliffs by Dol Amroth and the higher paths by Henneth Annun and Emyn Arnen than proper rock-climbing. 

Those past experiences hadn’t really prepared me for climbing up this slanted shaft. As Nyri and Vili explained it, the technique is called “chimneying.” Per their description, I ascended the shaft slowly by putting my right leg on one wall, and my left leg on the opposite wall, then inching up each leg in turn as I pivot my back for leverage. The tunnel does get fairly narrow – at times I am truly ‘inching’ only a little forward each time I move my legs. At last I reach the top of the vent, and pull myself up into the starlit night to lie on the cool rocky ground. The wind whistles over the mountain, eddying through this small indentation. As beautiful as Aglarond is, it is a relief to see the stars and feel the wind. 

Looking around at the larger boulders around me, I move behind one to catch my breath and count my blessings. There was no way for me to scout ahead to know what would be on this side of the day hole. Legolas has kept me close company almost every minute since our arrival in Aglarond, and I didn’t want to involve him in any illicit departure I might embark upon. 

I picked this particular day-hole because it was near enough to paths I might reasonably travel in Aglarond, and roughly on the right side of the mountain to reach the contact I had made in the town surrounding Helm’s Deep. In addition to our ambassador at Helm’s Deep and his staff, Gondor has a few unofficial men at the fortress and in the town. I notified our unofficial men of my arrival the first full day, via a drawing on the outer envelope of a missive to Aragorn. The courier knew to open the envelope, pull out the smaller envelope to send onto the King, and pass the marked envelope to the most senior of our Rohirrim contacts by Helm’s Deep, a parchment-maker and book-binder by the name of Oswin. He also sells ink and writing implements, and is assisted by his son, Adair. 

There was no easy way for them to send me a reply message, as I am not known to be in Helm’s Deep. Even Oswin doesn’t know who I am, just that I am a fellow agent of Gondor, who is in the area and may need assistance in the near future. As difficult as it was for me, I was trying to be content to leave the matter there, and just enjoy the time in magical Aglarond with my dear friends. That didn’t stop me from trying to learn as much about possible exit routes as I could. After being posted in Henneth Annun for over half of my life, and living with the threat of orcs and Southrons possibly overrunning our lines, I am highly attuned to where viable escape routes can be found. Acting as a spy only heightened that tendency. Even as a small child, I knew that it was best to be wherever my father Denethor wasn’t, and I grew to know the halls and hidden tunnels of the Citadel and Minas Tirith exceptionally well.

Making sure that I can make a hasty exit if I need to is second nature to me. As the days in Aglarond went by without receiving word from my father of their investigations in Minas Tirith, or word from Gimli of the queries he had passed onto Marshal Erkenbrand regarding the suspicious merchants, I began to grow more and more anxious, and frustrated. If I must be taken from my family, my home, and my duties for my own protection, at least I might aid in the search for our assailants by analyzing the information which is available and sending messages back with my thoughts on the matter! What am I to assume, that nothing is being done? 

What if the silk merchants we were told of by the mired traders are in league with whomever is paying assassins to kill Legolas and I? Or what if they are doing something else they should not be doing, smuggling drugs or slaves or counterfeit goods? It is maddening to not be able to ensure that these matters are given the proper attention! 

Worried and frustrated by the lack of news, I took the chance when we were visiting the library with Lore Master Gror to ask his assistant, Skari, to requisition some parchment and ink for me. My purpose in doing so was in part that I might write down some of the dwarven histories, those which are acceptable to be shared with outsiders. That was the reason I gave Skari, and Lore Master Gror seemed to approve. I do not think that Legolas was paying any attention at that point, but even if he had been, there is no way for him to know that I was encoding my rather long description of the quality and making of the parchment I required in such a way to instruct our contact, Oswin, to have the silk merchants investigated, to pass on the word to Minas Tirith and to me if the merchants showed any signs of being a danger to Gondor, and to await further instructions. 

Yesterday, messages were finally received from my father and also from my uncle, but none were addressed to me. Yes, I understand that they could not outwardly do so, but surely Aragorn understands the art of putting one envelope inside another? Aragorn’s missives said nothing, absolutely nothing, of what is going on in Minas Tirith with regard to the plot to kill Legolas and I. If I were in Minas Tirith, I would go to my father and give him a piece of my mind, even if I ended up over his knee for it. As it is, I merely took out my temper on those who do not deserve it. 

I did apologize to Gimli and Legolas later, and to Vonild as well. I thanked them again for their kindness in hosting me, and assured them of my undying regard, before I departed the feast to embark upon this adventure. I am carrying nothing with me except my clothes, beltpouch, a length of strong rope, and the flask of inferior wine.. Oswin’s son Adair will meet me just below the last part of the mountain the dwarves patrol, with clothes and weapons and everything else I will need to investigate these merchants, if they have not already determined them to be a danger or a false alarm, and then to go on and make my way to Gondor if it seems best to do so. 

Oswin sent a return message to me today, care of Skari, telling me that he has begun to prepare the parchment, and asking me to clarify what kind of ink I require. I used that opportunity to send back word that I required Adair to meet me, and where, and when. It was a hard decision to make, but I cannot remain in the dark like this. It reminds me of the days when Denethor ruled Gondor, making decisions that would have been disasters had cooler heads not intervened. During Denethor’s rule, before the end of the war, was the last time I was so uninformed of what was going on in Minas Tirith and Gondor. Now, I do not think that Aragorn would do anything so terrible as order a Captain to kill hobbits in order to take the One Ring for Gondor, or execute deserters who had been conscripted into the army in the first place, or order my rangers into a suicidal and pointless last sally. 

However, he might well put more lives in danger because he doesn’t recognize something that I would, in investigating this matter of who is trying to kill Legolas and I. How can I be sure of that, if he will not keep me in the loop? This is why I am leaving Aglarond, however reluctantly I do so, and thinking of it at the time gave me the impetus to continue with my plan. 

Taking a deep breath, I stealthily moved from behind that boulder to the shadow of another. Moving as quietly as I can to avoid being heard by the dwarven sentries, I begin to make my way down the mountain. I reached a part of the descent where the ground was covered with dirt and loose stones, some as small as coins and others as large as pumpkins. A nearly-bare tree quivered overhead, adding leaves to the uneven ground. It looked as if the ground upon which the tree had previously stood had given way. Trying to avoid the worst of the larger stones, I mis-stepped and fell down, down, down, bumping knees and elbows against solid rock. At first I could do no more than gasp in surprise. After a moment, I realized that I had found another day hole, or at least a shaft leading down into earth. Praying to the Valar that it would be narrow enough, I reached out my arms and legs to arrest my progress. 

I was lucky. The shaft was narrow enough, in fact, almost too narrow. On my third try, I managed to arrest my downward progress, coming to an abrupt halt. I could have broken my neck, or been seriously injured, if the shaft had been wider, or if I had fallen badly. With that sobering thought, the scrapes and bruises I sustained in my fall did not bother me, nor did the small rocks and dirt and leaves drifting down from above. At the time, it had not occurred to me that the leaves and debris would fall down to the end of this shaft, and through the grates of the daylight hole at the bottom, alerting the guards that someone was in this tunnel. 

After taking a few moments to catch my breath and calm my rapidly beating heart, I reached out a hand and braced my feet to begin my ascent. I had only made about a half-inch or so of progress before I was brought up short. I realize that I must be caught on something. My belt, it seemed, had caught in a cleft between rock and another. The tunnel was too narrow for me to be able to just reach around to my back and pull it loose. Entirely too narrow for me to liberate a knife from my belt and cut it loose. For the time being, I was stuck. I was taking a few moments to consider that predicament and how it might be remedied when I first heard the voices calling up to me. 

And now I am still stuck, and the time period during which I could free myself and make good my escape is dwindling. The dwarven guards are still calling up words of encouragement and reassurance - they really are good fellows. I feel quite badly to be putting them to such trouble on the night of their holiday. Then I hear two very familiar voices. Feeling hot and cold all over, I rest my head against the cool stone of the shaft. There is nothing else for it now - my time is up. I can just reach the wine skin I had brought along for this contingency. Steeling my courage, I drink a few swallows of it, almost gagging at the bitter taste. Then I pour some of the rest over my shirt, before dropping the flask down the shaft. It hits the stone floor below with a rather satisfying 'plonk' and 'gurgle,' explaining eloquently a string of possible circumstances which might reasonably have led to my presence here in this shaft. 

My planned pretense of being drunk is to protect Gimli's reputation more than myself. Even if I could successfully fake being in a state of inebriation to my friends, I wouldn't do so. Not without a really good reason, at least, and getting myself into less trouble and trying to ameliorate their anger and disappointment at my attempted departure certainly isn't reason enough. But the spilled and dropped wine will almost certainly lead the other dwarves to believe that I'm just a drunk idiot, and the bet I entered into with Nyri earlier tonight will do the rest. Contingency plans are entirely too important to be left to chance. I wouldn't want anyone to think that Gimli's guest was trying to penetrate their security, or leave without his host's blessing, or anything else, which might reflect badly upon Gimli. Well, more badly than having an idiot for guest, but dwarves seem to expect people of my age to occasionally do stupid things like get drunk and accept unwise and dangerous wagers. 

I am rewarded with almost a minute of silence after the wine skin hits the ground. Then there is a flurry of chatter, with some of the dwarves speaking in concern and others almost chuckling. In the midst of the noise, I think that I might have heard Gimli sigh. 

It is he who calls out to me first, after that. 

"Faramir, lad, what are ye doing?"


	4. Chapter 4

It is Gimli who calls out to me first, after that. 

"Faramir, lad, what are ye doing?"

A good question, and spoken in such a patient tone that I am tempted to both laugh and congratulate him. My own experience with actually being personally drunk mostly consists of one night in Minas Tirith which ended with Legolas and I in a prison cell, through minimal fault of my own and entirely no fault of his. Since I barely remember most of that night, I can't really draw on that experience. However, my dear brother provided me with years of material. How I do miss him. 

"I...I was...tryin'... trying to win a bet!" I call back down to Gimli, slurring my words slightly, and thinking of Boromir. 

I imagine that I hear another sigh. Practically, Gimli asks - or rather orders, "Come down now. Ye can tell me of that. It's too late - or too early - to continue on with such nonsense today." 

I really do not want to confess this next part, but there is no help for it. My face burning with real embarrassment, I explain, "Don't...don't think I can. 'M...stuck...on something. Or something." Despite pretending to be drunk, I feel like I must offer a suggestion here. Having not come up this tunnel, I don't know if it is even possible for me to descend that way. "'Can...can someone come down from the top?" I ask, a bit more coherently, helpfully adding, "I fell through that way." 

Another moment of silence, and then what sounds like an argument between Gimli and Legolas. Legolas proposing something, Gimli refusing. Legolas offering a longer explanation, then another silence. Gimli's voice calmly requesting information from the other dwarves, and then another conversation between Gimli and Legolas. In horror, I realize that they might be considering sending Legolas up to help me. Considering his fear of small spaces, this tunnel would be a nightmare for him. I redouble my efforts to get loose, rubbing my left knuckle bloody trying to reach 'round to unhook my belt, and then further bruising my shoulder, my knee, and my chin as I try to get to the knife in my boot. 

All I accomplish with this flailing is to work the knife out of my boot just enough for it to fall. Trying to reach down to catch it, I lose my grip and end up hanging just by my belt for a moment. A few rocks loosen as I clamber for purchase, joining my knife in a free fall below. My knife clatters loudly against the stone floor, followed a few second later by the rocks. The murmur of voices from below ceases again, then Legolas says something loudly, and Gimli replies to him in what to me sounds like reluctant agreement. 

I curse to myself and begin to consider the merits of simply letting go. My belt should eventually tear under the weight of my body, and I could likely catch myself again on the rock. Unless the tunnel widens for a distance and then abruptly narrows again, I should be fine. It's not a good idea, but....

"Faramir!" Legolas calls up to me, "Stay where you are! I'll be up there to help you in just a few minutes!" 

"No!" I call back, determined to try my other plan before letting Legolas torture himself to rescue me, "I...I think I've got it." 

"Faramir!" This time it is Gimli, and his patience appears to have run out. "Stay put!" 

The sound of the vent at the bottom of the shaft being unlocked follow, and I realize that I have no choice but to do as they say. My trying to get loose now would only endanger Legolas. Besides, I should not disobey Gimli in front of his dwarves. 

Below me, I hear the sound of leather and cloth rustling against stone, and a yelp of pain from Legolas, as if he's had to scrape through a very narrow space. 

"Lamb, are ye hurt?" I hear Gimli yell up, clearly worried. 

"No!" Legolas calls back, a bit wildly. "I'm fine! But we're going to have to go up to get out!" 

For the first time since I decided earlier today to leave Aglarond, I truly regret my decision. Oh, I've felt terribly guilty all along, but until just now I would have done the same thing again, even knowing that I might well get caught, such is my conviction that there is more danger to my people from my staying than my going. But I did not know what sacrifices Legolas would have to make, just because I'd gotten stuck like a complete fool on a rock. I would have stayed at the feast, if I'd known, and resolved just to hassle Gimli -and my father by letter- with requests for further information. 

I don't have very long to dwell on regret. Faster than I would believe possible, I see the gleam of Legolas' pale hair coming towards me, then feel his hand on my boot. 

"Faramir? Are you well?" He asks, clearly concerned for me despite his own fear. 

Feeling even worse, I hasten to reassure him. "I'm fine. It's just that the back of my belt is caught." 

"Lean forward and hold still." He instructs. I do as he asks, trusting that he can see better in the dark than I. 

Carefully, he climbs up a bit further, coming up even with my waist. Then swearing softly. 

"It was too narrow to reach my knife." I comment, guessing that he is having the same problem. 

"So I thought, when it fell. Gimli was worried that you were trying to carve your name in the rock or something asinine like that." Legolas climbs back down far enough to pull his own knife free. Legolas makes this look easy, but it is actually quite dangerous. Slipping while you're rock climbing and falling is dangerous enough. Doing so with a drawn blade, or even a blade at your side, is a great way to stab yourself if something goes even a little big wrong. 

"I've got a secure hold, I won't fall." I offer to Legolas, worried, as he begins to climb back up, "You can brace yourself on my hip if it helps."

Legolas does so, holding onto me for balance with one hand while he cuts through my belt with the other. He catches it when it falls, as I slump with relief, trying to stretch a little of the tension out of my shoulders. 

"Just drop it." I advise, "There's nothing there important enough to risk encumbering us on the way back up. It's fairly narrow, but at least there's no grill at the top." 

Legolas narrows his eyes at me. "You are NOT drunk." He accuses. 

"No, I'm not..." I begin to explain. 

Legolas turns his head down, "Gimli," He yells, more than a little outraged, "Faramir's not...." 

I place my hand over his mouth. "Hush. It is better for him if they think I am. I will tell Gimli the truth, after. For now, please just tell them that I'm not stuck anymore, and that we're going out and up the top." 

Glaring at me, Legolas nods. To Gimli's concerned queries from below, Legolas replies, "He's free, we're fine. We're going to climb up- it's too narrow to get him down." 

Gimli yells back up his consent and encouragement, before calling just loudly enough for us to hear for someone to get Mistress Lilja, the healer. 

"Faramir, if I end up having to spend time with Lilja tonight because of you, then I'm not talking to you for a week." Legolas seethes. 

Not really knowing what to say to that, I just offer to let Legolas pass me and go up first, thinking that it would be easier for him as he is the better climber and would get to the top sooner, and out of the enclosed spaces he so dislikes. 

"Don't tell me what to do!" He snaps angrily. 

He is a teenager, I remind myself, and one whom I've inadvertently put through a pretty awful experience through my own foolhardiness. I start climbing. With my muscles tired and aching and my body bruised from the fall and trying to get loose, it is a more painful climb than my ascent of the other shaft, but a quicker one. I've learned how to climb this sort of tunnel, and I have the impetus of getting Legolas out of here as soon as possible to motivate me. I climb as fast as possible without risking a fall. 

When I get to the top, I waste no time pulling myself out. Before I can even offer Legolas a hand up, he is standing beside me, scanning the mountain around us. Assuming that he's looking for the dwarven guards, and not having completely given up on at least having a conversation with Adair from Helm's Deep, I ask, "Do you suppose you could lose sight of me for a few minutes? There's something I need to do...." 

Legolas glares at me incredulously for a second, before reaching out a hand to take a very firm - almost painful - grip on my upper arm. 

"No," he replies, gritting his teeth, "I could not." 

Running away from Legolas would avail me nothing, even if I were minded to do it. Resigned, I advise, "Watch your step here. There may be other unmarked vents. I fell through this one because I didn't see it on my way down the mountain." 

Legolas absorbs that in stony silence for a moment, before bursting out, "Faramir! How COULD you do this! Gimli and I trusted you! He even invited you to join us, for the most sacred night of their year! I gave you my bedroom! I SPENT A DAY IN THE LIBRARY FOR YOU!" 

"I'm sorry." I tell him, forcing myself to meet his hurt gaze even though it hits me like an arrow to the heart, "I thought it necessary, but I didn't know that I'd get stuck, and need rescuing. I'm truly sorry, Legolas, for that." 

"You should save your apologies for Gimli." Legolas tells me fiercely, "Faramir, he swore an oath to protect you, and you almost made him break it! Don't you understand that!?" 

I hear the sounds of boots on stone as the dwarven guards approach us from below. "Keep that quiet." I order Legolas firmly, "So far as anyone else knows, all I've done is get very drunk and climb up a tunnel on a dare. That won't reflect very badly on Gimli at all, they'll just think that he is unfortunate enough to have a young idiot as a friend." 

Legolas looks very much as if he'd like to dispute that with me, but does have the presence of mind not to continue to do so in public. As the footsteps come closer, Legolas calls out a greeting. I slump against him as if I'm drunk in truth, leaning heavily on his shoulder and swaying a bit. Legolas sighs in disgust, but reluctantly plays along. 

"Oh, h'lo there!" I greet the dwarven guards. "Thank..." I pause to hiccup, "Thanks ever so much. Sorry...." I hiccup again, "For the trouble!" My brother was always a jovial drunk. He is again this moment my role model, in a manner of speaking, despite his death on the Quest. I resolve to raise a toast to him the next time I drink something better than the wine, which was my prop tonight. 

One of the dwarven guards grins and tells me that it's no trouble, although he'll not envy me my head on the morrow. Legolas mutters something I don't hear in reply to that. The other guard grumbles something about young fools and the dangers of drink. The five of us make our way expeditiously down the mountain, despite my leaning on Legolas and sometimes also the grinning guard. 

The guards lead us to a small, hidden entrance to the cave system, one I've not seen before. Gimli awaits us there with several other dwarves and mistress Lilja. Legolas shrugs me off as soon as we come even with Gimli, who takes a firm grip on my forearm even as he asks, "Legolas? Are ye well?" 

"I'm fine." Legolas says shortly, shying away from Lilja. "Truly, I am. Please, Elvellon." 

Letting me go for a moment with a request for Captain Vestri to keep an eye on me, Gimli goes to look Legolas over. 

Captain Vestri, who is the father of my new friends Nyri and Vili and also the great-nephew of the dour Lord Dwalin, smiles at me and observes that I've had quite an adventure. In the halting, overly expansive tone of one who has had too much to drink but is nonetheless rather pleased with himself for all of that, I relate my success up until falling into the second tunnel and my apologies for their trouble. All the while I keep half an eye on Legolas and Gimli, worrying about Legolas' state of mind after his adventure in the tunnel. As always, the affection and the strong connection between Legolas and Gimli as they reunite and argue about whether one of them is truly still in good health is both touching and amusing. I care for them both so dearly, and am heartbroken at the thought that I may well have forfeited their friendship forever by my escape attempt tonight. Gimli should rightly be furious with me, just for putting Legolas through this experience. I am furious with myself, for that. Legolas is clearly furious with me. I have no idea how they will react, and am afraid to find out. Dwelling on that would overset me, so I focus on acting drunk. 

Legolas having apparently convinced Gimli that he is well enough not to need the services of Lilja, she is sent in my direction by Gimli, to Legolas' evident relief and even satisfaction. 

"Let's have a look at ye now, Lad." She says cheerfully, reminding me of every too-cheery healer I've ever known. Thankfully, my wife and my father are more of the calm, steady, weren't-you-an-idiot-for-ending-up-here-but-we'll-talk-about-it-later school. 

After taking a look at my hand and asking me to move my arms, Lilja informs Gimli that I am mostly unharmed by my adventure, but that she would like to bandage my hand and treat some of my other scrapes and cuts and bruises with antiseptics and unguents to relieve pain. Despite my slurred protestations that I am fine, Gimli agrees. Legolas looking quietly pleased with this turn of events, evidencing a low sense of humor, which is surprising to me, although I do not blame him for it given the circumstances of this night. 

Just as we are about to leave the entrance of the tunnel, I get up and stumble towards Gimli. 

"Gimli," I say, putting an arm around his shoulders as I almost fall to the ground, "I need to send someone a message before we go...wherever we're going." 

"No, ye don't." Gimli tells me sternly, picking me up and grabbing my arm again. He is clearly annoyed with me, certain exasperated, but not as upset as I had expected. 

"No, really, I do...." I begin to argue, wondering how much of my drunk act I might need to drop to get him to take me seriously, and trying to decide if it's worth making the attempt. I don't want Adair - my Helm's Deep contact - to worry about my failure to meet him. His instruction was to go back down to the village if I didn't come, and for Oswin to just send a message in the morning to verify that I am still well, so it shouldn't be an immediate problem, but he's young and untried and might try to come searching for me. I decide it's not worth the trouble - the dwarves wouldn't do anything worse than detail the fellow, even if he did run into them. 

We proceed to the rooms where Lilja treats her dwarven patients, which are closer than Gimli's quarters. Lilja also doesn't want to be away from them for long, because she already has a number of patients there with similar injuries from similar drunken adventures. One of them is Vili, Vestri's younger son, who was apparently climbing somewhere he wasn't supposed to tonight, as well, and carving his name in rock arching over a lake. Fortunately, not on or near any precious stones, but it was still apparently quite a faux pas, even if it is a normal type of adolescent hi-jinks, for dwarves, apparently. His brother Nyri is with him, wearing a put-upon expression that I remember my own brother having had, at times. 

Lilja treats me with deft hands, chattering brightly all the while about the differences between human and dwarve physiology, and how lucky I am not to have gotten more badly hurt, given all the foolish things I've done tonight. She's right about that second point, but her fascination with my person is a bit…discomforting. I can understand why Legolas finds her a bit too much. 

He is eyeing her warily as Gimli has him strip off his tunic to treat his bruises and scrapes from the tunnel. Lilja does offer to take a look at Legolas when she is done with me, but Gimli assures her that he is fine enough and she doesn't need to spare her time from another dwarfling who has just been brought into the healing rooms by his mother, suffering from an upset stomach. 

"Had a bit too much rich food at the feast tonight, didn't we dear?" Lilja consoles the small one reassuringly, "Never worry, we'll take care of that. This will help you feel better." 

We are just about to take our leave from the healing rooms. Gimli once again with a firm grip on my arm, when Dwalin comes blustering in, headed straight for his youngest great-nephew. 

"Vili! Of all the foolish, rock-headed dwarflings I've ever had to deal with, you are the worst!" 

I sense an opportunity to simultaneously reinforce my drunken cover story and distract Master Dwalin. Smiling, I take a small bag of coins from my rescued belt pouch, and toss it in Nyri's direction. 

He catches it, surprised, until he realizes who I am and laughs. 

"Got stuck in that vent, did you, Faramir? I told you it was too narrow! And even if you hadn't, my fellow guards would have caught you at the perimeter!" 

I laugh a bit, leaning on Gimli. "You did tell me so, and so it was." 

"What's this, then?" Dwalin inquires, too baffled to be more than his normal level of disapproving. 

"Prince Faramir and I set a wager," Nyri explained, "I told him that, even though all of Aglarond was drinking to Durin's day, it would still not be possible for someone to leave the caves without being seen. Faramir disagreed, said that his brother had once snuck his way through Edoras and left a bale of hay in the bed of Prince Theodred without even being noticed on the celebration of Theodred's coming of age. I said that we dwarves are more careful than that." 

Leaning even more heavily on Gimli, who is giving me an odd look, I agree, "And you were. The tunnel worked though, until I fell into the second." 

"Really?" Nyri said with some surprise. Upon my other companions confirming this, Nyri fishes one coin out of the bag and tossed it back to me. I miss it. Legolas picks it up for me with a sigh. 

Master Dwalin actually seems rather pleased with this evidence of dwarven superiority and his nephew's winning of a bet, but the sight of Legolas enflames his irritation, as it often does. I am annoyed on my friend's behalf as Dwalin accuses, "Don't you owe my nephew some coin as well, elf? For I can't imagine that you were willing to bet upon the strength and canniness of dwarves!" 

"Ah," Nyri intercedes, appearing embarrassed on his great-uncle's behalf, "Prince Legolas was not there at the time we made the wager, but had he been, I think that I would have had to split my take. You see, Lord Gimli's foster-son has said numerous times this week that it would not be possible for anyone to get into - or out of- the Glittering Caves without the permission of our lord." 

Legolas had made that point, while he kept me company over these past few days. Dwalin seems surprised by this, but covers that by berating his great-nephew again. Apparently, without Nyri's intervention, Vili would have fallen to his death. Before Gimli can guide me to the door, Master Dwalin's disapproval falls on me as well. 

"And ye are an idiot too, climbing up a tunnel ye'd never seen before with naught but a wine flask and a rope!" 

"My brother would agree with you," I tell him without thinking.

Boromir has been much on my mind tonight. These past days, even, as I have struggled to master my disappointment and frustration and worry at being kept from knowledge of what is going on in Gondor. The lack of knowledge, the exile...it reminds me of my treatment by our father, Lord Denethor, rather. Boromir was the one I could rely on to give me information, and together we would do our best to mitigate the damage done by our father's less-wise policies. I truly do miss him. I'm not drunk, but I am tired, nervous, and sick with worry over the thought of losing my friends. I miss Boromir, for he was the only person, until Eowyn, whose regard I was absolutely certain I could not lose, no matter what foolish thing I'd done. I have to close my eyes for a moment to blink back tears. I try to make it look as if I'm controlling incipient nausea. 

"Perhaps ye shouldn't be away from him, then!" Dwalin berates me, "If ye are still as foolish or more than Vili here, you should be yet with your own kin, and Gimli should tell your brother so!" 

There is a moment of silence. I do not think that Dwalin remembers who my brother is...or was. Legolas, despite his anger with me, comes and puts an arm around my shoulder, taking half of my weight from Gimli. 

"My brother died during the war, seven arrows in his chest." I tell Master Dwalin quietly, breathing evenly to ward away tears. "He was the better of us." It should have been me, I think again, as I always do when I think of Boromir. 

"Come, now, Faramir." Gimli commands, "It is time for us to get ye to bed. Dwalin, I suggest that ye do the same with young Vili. There's no point in lecturing him more now, not when he's too tired to learn anything from it." 

I keep up the pretense of being inebriated until we are back within Gimli's private quarters. I stand up more straightly then, as Gimli loosens his hold on me for the first time. Meeting his questioning gaze and Legolas' accusing eyes, I don't know what to say. 

The evening catches up to me. Nerves, fear, worry, and no small amount of self-disgust. I'm not drunk, but I'm still about to vomit. I turn and almost run in the direction of the privy in Legolas' room. Gimli catches my arm, and starts to speak. I look back at him, my distress obviously evident because he changes his efforts from keeping me present to hustling me towards my goal. 

I'm not paying attention to my friends as I lose the contents of my stomach. Vomiting is such an acute misery that it is at least a distraction from everything else I'm worried over. I hadn't expected to talk about my brother, to use him as part of this cover. I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm disgusted that it happened. I loathe myself for subjecting Legolas to one of his greatest fears, to rescue me from the consequences of betraying his trust and Gimli's. 

And I am thinking of my brother again. Normally, at this point in one of Boromir's evenings on the town, he would explain to me that he'd realized the evils of drink, and pledge to me that he was never going to drink to excess again. He would reach other insights and make other promises as well, some that were astonishingly perceptive. His theory was that when you are this sick, matters become a bit clearer. 

I suppose that is the case. I feel guilty for everything I've done over the past week to make it so that I could leave tonight. I risked a present danger - Legolas' life, and the life of anyone else who might come after me, all to free myself to combat a threat that may not exist, to offer my help where - Aragorn being Aragorn and not Denethor - my help may not even be needed. 

While I am losing my dinner and reaching these insights, I can vaguely hear my friends in the background, Legolas sounding upset and Gimli confused. To my surprise, as I had thought that neither would want anything to do with me at this point, I feel cool hands on my forehead, and hear Gimli offering me a cool cloth and a cup of water. 

 

XXXXX

[Legolas POV] 

Well if this isn’t the perfect way to end the night, watching poor Faramir losing the contents of his stomach, although why I call him ‘poor Faramir’ I do not know given his conduct tonight. What Gimli is going to say when he hears the whole story I do not know. I suppose it does me no credit to hope that he will be very, very angry. I know he would be if I had done anything so foolish but no doubt Faramir will receive nothing more than a lecture. Life is so unfair sometimes.

I mean if I had broken my word, climbed up (or was it down?) an air vent tried to escape from a place I had been asked to remain in for my own safety and then forced someone who cared for me to almost have to submit to the ministrations of Mistress Lilja I would have been deep in disgrace but not Faramir. No what happens is I get told to find a towel so Gimli can mop Faramir’s brow.

Having handed over the required items I retreat to the main room, rubbing at my hip as I do so for I have badly skinned my left side forcing myself through the narrowest section of the vent. It was just as well we were able to go up, for Faramir would never have squeezed through where the rock jutted out into the vent. 

As I wait for Gimli to join me I recall his face when we first heard what had happened, or at least what we thought had happened. We both raced to where the guards were waiting only for our arrival to be heralded by a plummeting wine skin which burst at our feet. The guards seemed to think Faramir had got stuck attempting to climb the air hole as part of a drunken wager, a scenario that Faramir himself further enhanced by pretending to be drunk when Gimli called up to him. This I now know to be false, but whether Gimli does I am not certain and it is not really my place to say anything yet. I have never been a tattle-tale.

Once we knew he was stuck I immediately volunteered to go up to him, but Gimli was not at all keen at least not until Faramir’s knife and quite a bit of rubble and dust descended. After that he decided it would be a good idea for me to at least climb up to see what was happening and to free Faramir if I could. The climb itself was not difficult. Even in the dark I was able to find hand and footholds that would support me but about half way up I did encounter something of a problem, a large piece of stone must have fallen in at some point and it was partially blocking the vent. I managed to squeeze past it but I knew Faramir would not be able to have done so, so he must have got out of the caves some other way, which he admitted was fact once we were out of the shaft. Fortunately for us both once I had cut his belt we were able to climb upwards and were soon free. I was not sure when we did so whether I wished to embrace him or knock Faramir down for what he had done and how he was attempting to fool Gimli but I kept quiet when he asked it of me for it is not for me to say anything. It is up to Faramir to confess what he has been doing. I just hope I am there to hear his explanation. 

It will be interesting to hear what he has to say. He seems to have a fairly fertile imagination, and is very quick witted for while we were being subjected to Lilja’s tender care Dwalin arrived and Faramir managed to get him to accept that he had been involved in a wager with his nephew. Dwalin even seemed impressed. Of course when he caught sight of me he turned all of his ire in my direction. Had it not been for Nyri speaking up for me I would no doubt have been lambasted. As it was Dwalin then turned his anger on Faramir.

Oh I absolve the crusty old curmudgeon of deliberately making use of Boromir’s name to strike at Faramir but it was plain that his barbs struck home and at that moment I felt truly feel sorry for my gwador for I know how much he misses his half-brother and his grief at that loss has not yet dimmed. It may never do so unless he can come to find peace within himself.

My thoughts are interrupted as Gimli comes out into the main room.

“Well now,” he growls, “that was something I could well have done without.”

“Have you spoken with him?” I want to know, for I heard no shouting.

Gimli sinks into his chair, and pokes at the fire, “Nay not beyond demanding he give me his word that he will not attempt such foolishness again.”

“And you trust him to keep it?”

“Aye, why should I not?”

“Well, he certainly did not do so before did he?” Really, how naive can one dwarf be? Faramir has proved to us that he cannot be trusted to keep to his promises.

“I think ye are being a little hard on him laddie,” Gimli seems to be able to read my thoughts, “I admit I am disappointed in Faramir, but a bit of tomfoolery is not worth getting angry over. All is well after all.”

I grit my teeth, “Gimli, he was not drunk.”

“No, I did not think he was” 

I might have known Gimli would have seen through that attempt at deception, “Well in that case …”

“Lamb, I am not so foolish as ye seem to think. Faramir obviously made an attempt to flee Aglarond, for what reason… well I can guess I suppose… but the fact is he failed and now I am forewarned it is unlikely he will attempt such a thing again. He has learned his lesson I believe.”

“And that is that?” I can hardly keep the disgust from my voice,

“Aye, that is that. Faramir is in no case to listen to a lecture and I am in no mood to hear his excuses tonight.”

“Had it been me you would have demanded answers and doled out retribution as well by now, I do not doubt.” 

Gimli reaches over and pulls me down beside him.

“Legolas, Lamb, tis not the same case at all. Ye are my son, Faramir is a guest, though a reluctant one it seems. He will answer for his foolishness, do not think otherwise, but to be thirsting for such a thing ill becomes you.”

I flush at this rebuke. Perhaps I am behaving badly but then do I not have cause? I have sacrificed so much for Faramir, given up my bedchamber, chaperoned him about the caves, spent almost a whole day in the library and then had to haul myself up through an air vent at the end of a very long night. It is hardly surprising that I am cross.

“He gave his word to Estel that he would heed you and he chose to break that oath. Does that not at least give me cause to be angry with him? Does it not give you cause?”

“Of course it would Lamb if it were true, nay listen to me” he stops my protest with a raised hand, “I have been thinking over what was said in Minas Tirith, and the fact is that the lad didn’a actually make a promise either to me or Aragorn, to remain in Aglarond. Oh he was clever about it, downright sneaky in fact but the truth is he bamboozled us all. I canna accuse him of something he didn’a do.”

“If Faramir deliberately misled you that makes it worse surely and he should be called on it!”

Gimli tips his head and gives me one of his measuring glances, no doubt wondering why I am still so angry and in truth it is difficult to for me to say why I feel so cheated but I do.

Looking into Gimli’s tired worn face I realize it is as much a case of feeling that Gimli has been treated badly-in fact worse than I have. I am angry on his behalf. I find I do not at all like the idea of someone making May games of my guardian. Gimli may pretend otherwise but he has been hurt by it and his trust betrayed I can tell and so I will tell Faramir when I get the opportunity. Is this what it is like when I do foolish, dangerous things? Is this how Gimli looks while he waits for me to recover or reappear from some prank or other? it makes me ashamed and doubly irate with Faramir. Some of what I am thinking must show on my face for Gimli demands to know what is amiss.

“Tis unlike ye to be so unforgiving Lamb. Ye are not suffering from going up that shaft?”

“Of course not,” instinctively I put a hand to my hip and hastily move it away again.

“Ye are hurt?”

“I am fine; it is Faramir we are talking of, he lied to us Gimli. He went out of his way to deceive us, and … and … well it is wrong.”

“It is, and tomorrow we will hear a full telling of the reasons why and then, and only then Lamb, will I decide what is to be done. Do not think I am sanguine about this. I am not. But the fact is that we are none of us in a fit state to deal with what has happened tonight. Faramir is ill and exhausted, you are feeling hard done to, and me… well let us just say that tonight I am feeling my years. We all need sleep, and the sooner the better. I have asked Captain Vestri to double the guard and to keep a special eye on our quarters. No one will be slipping out to climb the air vents or anything else, so” he banks the fire and stands, “let us get some much needed and well-earned rest. Ye did very well tonight, as nimble as a squirrel and as brave as a lion. I am fortunate indeed that ye were here.”

And after that what can I say? So I meekly follow Gimli to his bedchamber and prepare for bed.

 

Xxxx

 

It isn’t Mabon in the Glittering Caves until I have been called away at least once to deal with some issue or other, usually having to do with someone drinking too much and getting involved in something stupid, though normally I can hand the culprit off to a spouse or parent, or at the very worst a guarded holding chamber until they can sober up enough to speak sense and deal with consequences if there are any that need to be meted out. It is a change at least, that this time the offender is in my personal charge and is in fact only pretending to be drunk for some reason only known to himself. I cannot fathom his reasoning on that, though it is easy enough to figure out what Faramir was attempting to do. I knew the lad was not in agreement with his King over being sent off, but I had hoped that he would become reconciled to the idea once we arrived. A false hope that turned out to be, but I suppose I should not be surprised. I had almost expected something like this, which is why I asked Legolas to keep an eye out and inform me if he suspected anything. Obviously he did not since it is easy to see he is absolutely livid over the incident.

As soon as we enter my private quarters, Faramir drops the drunken act, letting me know that it was for the sake of the others who witnessed what happened, but before I can wonder about this Faramir goes green and I have to rush him to the nearest bathing chamber. As annoyed as I am at the moment, I can’t help cringing in sympathy as he heaves violently. All I can do is hold his hair back out of the way and send Legolas for a damp cloth, which is fairly flung at me before he stomps off to seethe in the other room while I tend to our friend. It is probably for the best considering the foul mood my elfling is in. He’d likely wring the thing out over Faramir’s head rather than mopping his brow with it. 

Eventually Faramir slumps weakly against the wall, still breathing erratically, while I hand over the cool cloth. He wipes his face and then looks up at me with watery eyes that are beginning to bruise from the heavy heaving.

“Lord Gimli, I…” He begins, but I am not ready to hear any explanations right now. He is in no shape for it and frankly neither am I.

“It is just Gimli, Faramir,” I interrupt, “and there is no need to try to explain anything tonight. Ye are too distressed and worn out to speak much sense anyway. Here now take a deep breath laddie, through your nose and stay put while I get ye some water. I’m sure ye’d like to rinse your mouth out.”

I hurry to bring the water, but have to steady the cup since Faramir’s hands are shaking like a leaf so that he is in danger of spilling the contents over himself. He manages to rinse and spit when I instruct him to do so, but he still seems to be having trouble steadying his breathing. It is almost as if he is in shock, and I have some idea why. I saw the wounded look in his face when my delightful cousin mentioned Boromir, though of course he did not say his name. Dwalin knows of Boromir, having heard my tales of the quest, but he would have had no way to know that Faramir was his brother. It was not done to be purposely hurtful, but unfortunately that is what happened, and now I am not exactly sure what to do. If it were my Legolas suffering in such a way I would not hesitate to take him in my arms and offer consoling words, but I am unsure if Faramir would find that helpful at all. So instead I merely crouch next to him and rub his back, encouraging him to breathe, but he does not seem to find it very soothing and in fact looks more pained than before.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he starts, “I was trying to leave, had been planning it for days…I purposely tried to deceive you…

He is obviously very worked up, so I just lower my voice and interrupt him again.

“Never mind all that, lad, I said we’ll discus it in the morning. For tonight let us get ye into bed. Ye look like a walking corpse at the moment.”

I manage to get him to his feet and corralled into the bedchamber where he sits on the edge of the bed and wraps both arms around himself as if he is attempting to control his trembling. I sit next to him and feel him stiffen when I place a hand on his shoulder.

“I do not deserve your kind treatment,” he tells me, attempting to pull away, but I only tighten my grip and pull him a bit closer.

“Ah well, that is my decision to make is it not, youngling?” I gently scold. “it is not up to ye to tell me how to treat my friends.”

“But when you understand the full story…”

“When I understand the full story, I will decide then how it must be dealt with,” I say firmly. “And then it will be over and forgiven and we will begin again. That is how it is between friends and family, lad.”

He looks searchingly into my face for a moment and I wonder what he sees there. Rather than enlighten me, he only asks how Legolas is faring.

“A bit scraped up and mad as a wet cat,” I tell him. “But he’ll be mostly healed by tomorrow and his temper is always quick to rise and quicker to fade. He’ll be fine enough in no time. Whatever has happened tonight can be gotten through, Faramir, that I can promise ye.”

Again I keep my gaze steady as he searches my expression, perhaps for signs of falseness. And again I am unsure of what he sees there, but he does let his guard down enough to lower his eyes and whisper in a choked voice.

“I…I shouldn’t have spoken of Boromir. I didn’t plan to, but it slipped out.”

It is easy to see he is on the verge of tears, so again I hurry to console him.

“Boromir was a good man, and he loved ye, laddie. No doubt he would have seen the comical side to things tonight, even if he had cussed and growled in the beginning. So ye mustn’t worry over that.”

Faramir half smiles, and finally I feel him relax a little. I take advantage of that and encourage him to remove his boots and outer tunic at least, in preparation for sleeping. 

“I assume I can trust ye to stay put for the rest of the night, Faramir?” I ask.

“I swear it,” he says solemnly. “I will not attempt to leave here without your express permission again.”

“Good lad,” I say, giving his shoulder a fond pat, and then I take his chin in my hand so he is forced to look at me. “Now get some rest, and dinna spend the whole night fretting. Tomorrow ye can explain everything and we’ll discuss then what must be done about it. Afterwards this whole sorry incident will be over and done with, and there will be no need to speak of it again. Is that plain?”

“Yes Lor…I mean yes, Gimli.”

“All right then. Sleep well, lad.”

I close Faramir’s door, happy that I have managed to calm him down considerably without spending too much time, for I am bone tired after the long day and night. Of course I still have another storm to endure, so I set my jaw and enter into the main room where Legolas is irritably pacing the floor. 

As expected, he is full of righteous rage, though it is mostly on my account so I can hardly be too upset with him. Besides he is the one who saved the day and got scraped up in the process and came too close to having to deal with Mistress Lilja for comfort. I am sure he feels he has good reason to be angry, so I let him rant on, answering his questions as calmly as I can. Once he has vented his frustration and run out of vitriol I am finally able to coax him into going to bed as well, thank the Valar! It has been a harrowing evening and I am more than ready to see the end of it. 

There is only one more thing I must do before I can finally sleep. Legolas managed to skin the left side of his body while rescuing our wayward friend and his hip and leg still need to be treated. I convinced him to let me treat his wounds that were above the waist earlier tonight, but I thought it would easier to look at the other privately than to convince him to show me in Mistress Lilja’s presence. He seems to be amazed when I mention it, no doubt thinking he has been hiding it better, but I am not sure why he thought I would believe the scrape happened to end at the top of his leggings. Sometimes his opinion of my intelligence concerns me! Whatever the case, I am sure my expression doesn’t leave him much room to argue, so he simply let’s me get on with it.

While I am tending him, I do my best not to sigh in frustration when he thinks of something else that evidently must be discussed tonight.

“I am sorry about hiding those letters, Gimli. I should have told you right away.”

“Aye, ye should have, but ye know that now and we’ve already discussed it. There is no need to continue to apologize. I believe ye, laddie.”

Almost as if I haven’t spoken he continues.

“And for ending up in the gaol in Minas Tirith. And for going against your orders regarding Minas Ithil. Both times. And for that incident with the wargs…”

He cuts that off and flushes deeply as I frown, for I don’t remember any incident that involved wargs. 

“Exactly what happened with wargs that I haven’t heard about?” I begin, but then I change my mind. I am far too tired to think on it tonight. “Ah well never mind. Whatever it was, we won’t discuss it. Ye’ve been so helpful this evening that we’ll just call it even on that one. But if I were ye I’d quit talking now before ye confess to every naughtiness ye’ve committed in the last decade or so. I for one dinna have the energy to deal with that tonight!” I finish with the last bandage and readjust his clothing before leaning down to kiss his temple. “ I suggest we both just end this conversation and go to sleep. What say you, lamb?”

Still flushing, he snuggles deeper into the pillows.

“I think it is a sensible plan,’ he agrees.


	5. Chapter 5

[Faramir POV] 

I wake up slowly, with an odd feeling of looming dread. I can hear the familiar, comfortable sounds of Lady Vonild puttering about the kitchen, and Legolas complimenting her on her cooking and teasing her for not letting him help with anything. The affectionate banter brings a tired smile to my face, until I remember everything that happened last night. My stomach clenches and I feel slightly ill again. I have no desire to face my friends whom I have betrayed by my ill-considered actions. But I do owe them an explanation, and several apologies, and such things are never improved by waiting. 

I bathe and dress quickly and with only half my attention on the task. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves as I leave the bedchamber and enter the common area and then the kitchen. Legolas looks up at me with a glare, and then pointedly looks away before I can say anything. I had at least half-expected such a reaction and do not blame him, but still, it does hurt. 

I am half-relieved, half-disappointed that Gimli is not also present. He was…surprisingly kind, last night. I simultaneously dread confessing all I have done to violate his trust since arriving in Aglarond, yet am disappointed to have to put it off. I would like to get it over with. 

“Well, there you are, Faramir dear!” Lady Vonild exclaims with a smile. “I had thought that you might sleep the entire morning away!” 

Legolas mutters something dark under his breath at that. 

Vonild gives him a curious look, before turning her attention back to me, to instruct me to sit while she makes up a plate. 

“Oh, please, Lady Vonild, do not put yourself to more trouble!” I urge her, even as I do sit. She is a very hard person to say no to! 

“It is no trouble at all!” She protests, even as she gives lie to that by going back to the pantry for the jam she has learned that I prefer. I have no appetite at all this morning, but I am afraid that will not go over well with her, and I am unsure of how much to explain. 

“I cannot believe you.” Legolas hisses once Vonild is out of earshot. “How could you betray Gimli’s trust thusly, and lead us both to believe you content, when you were actually planning to crawl off like a thief as soon as you had the chance?” 

“Legolas,” I begin, not sure of what to say other than, “I am sorry. I...” 

He cuts me off, “Gimli invited you to stay, Aragorn made you promise to heed him, and yet still, you go off and defy them both! Gimli should have just left you to journey to Rivendell and enjoy the tender mercies of Elladan and Elrohir! Who knows, maybe with their lower opinion of you, they wouldn’t have been taken in by your act, and might have kept track of you!” 

I wince again at this renewed evidence of how badly I have abused our friendship, but I do rather highly doubt that I would have had much if any trouble leaving Rivendell. Perhaps I think too much of myself, but Aragorn’s twin foster-brothers neither like me nor know me very well, and I think it probable that they would have underestimated me, if they’d bothered to keep track of me at all. It was much more difficult, I think, to escape the company of my two friends here in Gimli’s glittering underground realm than it would be to escape two relative strangers in Imladris, especially as an assassin succeeding might not even be that upsetting to Lords Elladan and Elrohir. I’m not sure that it would help to say so, however, so instead I try again to apologize. 

“It was wrong of me to leave, for…for a number of reasons. I did betray your trust, and Gimli’s, and I am…” 

“Don’t, Faramir. You can save your explanations for Gimli.”

Legolas turns his attention resolutely back to his plate, just as Vonild returns to the kitchen. I am a bit envious of Legolas’ hearing. It would be a useful thing, to know when someone was returning to a room before normal human ears were aware of the fact. 

“Thank you, Lady Vonild, you are too kind.” I say, taking the groaning plate with an expression of dismay, which I cannot hide, “I am afraid that I haven’t much appetite this morning, and will therefore be guilty of the crime of failing to do justice to your culinary skill.” 

Legolas mumbles something unpleasant under his breath. Lady Vonild frowns at him, but turns her attention again to me. 

“Faramir, sweetling, you are wasting away. Why, I think you’ve lost two stone from last winter, when first you arrived here. And you barely ate at all last night!” 

“Would that had been all that Faramir did last night….” Legolas says darkly. 

“Legolas!” Lady Vonild scolds him, as I wince and then speak up in his defense. 

“Please forgive him, Lady Vonild. I am afraid that I was not at my best last night, and Legolas put himself to not inconsiderable pains to rescue me from the consequences of my own foolishness.” 

Defending Legolas is often its own punishment. He glares at me even more fiercely. Lady Vonild sighs at the both of us. 

We are spared her further disappointment by Gimli’s return. I have trouble looking up to meet his eyes, but I force myself to do so, trying to convey my heart-felt regret and apology. 

Gimli seems weary. My guilt weighs even more heavily upon me for my part in that. He nods reassuringly at me, laying a large hand on my shoulder after kissing his mother’s cheek and Legolas’s fair hair. 

“The usual morning-after-Mabon nonsense to deal with, my dear?” Vonild tenderly asks her son as Gimli takes his seat. 

“Aye, Mam,” He agrees. Raising an eyebrow at me, he adds, “But in truth, no worse than the usual.”

I think that was meant to be reassuring. Legolas finds it infuriating. I earn yet another fulminating glare, and if my friend were just a bit younger, or as prone to immaturity as my father can be at times, I think he might have kicked me under the table. 

Breakfast wears on. I fall back on the childhood strategy of rearranging my food and eating very small bites in such a way that it appears I am enjoying my meal. I want to make sure to give Gimli a chance to eat and rest, after whatever he has had to deal with this morning. Both for my benefit, as I do not know how he will react to my explanation, and also because I feel guilty for my part in his late night and busy morning, and sympathetic as I have often been in his position myself. 

I can feel Vonild’s maternal gaze alight on me several times during the meal, but she does not actually object to my poor appetite again. Instead she announces her intention to visit Dorbryn this morning. I am sorry if my poor decisions have resulted in her being driven away from her son and her elven grandson for the morning, but I am not sure that I entirely manage to conceal my relief. Explaining everything to Gimli and Legolas will be challenging enough. I do not know what Gimli may already have told Lady Vonild, and in any case, her presence would make the interview no easier. 

Breakfast finally ends. For a wonder, Vonild lets us aid her in the cleaning up so that it goes more quickly. I think that she might sense I need something to do with my hands. My current problems may seem overwhelming and near insoluble, but I can solve the problem of cleaning a dish. Once a dish or a pan is clean, it stays that way until the next time it is used. It is a winnable fight. 

Lady Vonild takes her leave of us, with a hug and a kiss for Gimli and Legolas, and a warm embrace for me as well. She whispers intently into my ear that all will be well. Her words have the force of confidence and kindness. It is hard not to believe her even at the same time that I am afraid my poor judgment and ill-considered actions have cost me the affection and trust of two of my dearest friends. 

“I owe both of you several apologies and an explanation.” I say to Gimli and Legolas as soon as the door shuts. “First – and this should have been enough - I should have realized that my risking the present threat of danger to the lives and limbs of those who dwell here and might follow after me, just to take my leave to deal with a possible future threat…that doing so was not worthwhile.” I think of how Legolas did come away with scrapes and bruises from aiding me, and how much worse that might have been, and I feel another pang of guilt. 

“I…forgot,” I force myself to continue, “that the danger, from the assassins, from whoever is involved in that plot, I forgot that my not being involved in figuring out how to stop them, is not…a current danger. That it may not be a danger at all. Aragorn…listens, and heeds most council. He likely will not miss important details, or…make hasty decisions.” 

Legolas is looking at me almost as if I am a peculiarly puzzling sort of insect. “How could you possibly forget that?” 

“Legolas, hush, lamb, please.” Gimli scolds. “Faramir,” He directs me firmly, “Just start at the beginning, and tell us what happened. We’ll listen.” That last was directed at Legolas, who sits down with a huff, as well as at me. 

I nod, but then find myself having trouble figuring out how to explain what I was thinking, without going into detail about the inner workings of Gondor before the Ring War. I tried very hard to keep track of what was happening in Minas Tirith in those days, even when I was in Ithilien, because Lord Denethor, particularly toward the end, would make…questionable decisions. Such as abandoning a previously populated area and pulling the garrison back before people had had enough time to evacuate. Or ordering the execution of soldiers who had defied those orders in order to protect citizens who had taken the time to save as much as they could of their livelihoods before giving up the lands and lives they and their ancestors had fought for generations to preserve. 

If I was in the loop, I could help arrange for someone to intercede on the behalf of persons imprisoned for such crimes. Or, if I knew early enough, I could work with Boromir or his officers to see that the orders for pulling back so precipitously were delayed in the first place. Not knowing what is going on in Minas Tirith, not being able to act to change it…has a particularly panicking effect on me. 

The last time that I was truly out of favor enough with my Lord father Denethor and the powerful in Gondor to be shut out of events in Minas Tirith was after I argued the Council to a standstill on the matter of the Quest, before finally conceding to my brother’s desire to take on the honor himself. I paid for that intransigence, justly and unjustly. I was, consequently, out of the loop enough that my first knowledge of my father’s ordering the execution of anyone who let the Ring pass through Gondor without bringing it to him was receiving the order, like any other officer. At that point, I did write to the chief archivist, the high priest of Eru in Minas Tirith, my Uncle Imrahil, and everyone else I could think of who might be able to issue orders regarding the Ring which, while not directly defiant, could be sufficiently confusing to muddy the waters enough to create a plausible defense for anyone who made the sane decision regarding the ring. 

In the end, that decision was mine, and I did not hesitate to send Frodo and Sam on their way with as much aid as I could give them. Consequently, it would be fair to say that the Battle of the Pelennor saved my life as surely as it doomed my Rangers. After I was finally released from the House of Healing following the battle, I found the order for my execution on my father’s desk, in his private study. A writ of execution for a Lord of Gondor could not have been drawn up without his explicit permission. In his own hand, he’d modified the charges slightly. Enough, perhaps, that I could have escaped the situation with exile or imprisonment instead of death. He hadn’t signed it, yet. He did love me, after all. 

But the order of execution was not truly a surprise, to me. I had known that it was a possible result of letting the hobbits leave my custody with the Ring. That action had been treason, beyond the shadow of a doubt. I do not know, if Lord Denethor would truly have gone through with the matter. War was coming, and I was useful. But if he had decided that my life was forfeit, being able to make a quick and covert escape from the Citadel and the city would have been important. I might have simply accepted my fate, either as my due or because I was his officer, and to defy the will of your commander on the eve of war is not an act I would be eager to commit. But I had known how to leave Minas Tirith, even the Citadel, even the cells beneath the Citadel. I’d wanted to have the choice.

I’d wanted to have the choice to leave Aglarond, if I felt I had to. It’s not that I expect that Lord Gimli would agree to execute me, or that Aragorn would ever ask anyone to do so. It’s not even that I expected Aragorn to make a mistake or a poor decision in Minas Tirith that would truly endanger our people there. But, having been powerless in the face of disaster in the past, I do not want to concede the hard-won independence of no longer being so. To return to such a state of non-information, powerlessness, and non-action, even for a brief time, even for my own safety and that of others, is extremely difficult. 

Explaining any of that is also difficult. It does no one any good to remember those times. But, in my frustration and fecklessness, I have done my friends several true wrongs. They deserve a real answer, no matter how hard it is to give one. So I try. 

“It...I grew up under Lord Denethor's rule. Thirty-three years, Legolas.” I explain quietly, willing them to understand, “It is hard for me to remember, at times, that I no longer need to be prepared to defy the ruler of Gondor, in order to save Gondor. I am truly sorry, that I betrayed the spirit if not the letter of my agreement to journey here with you after Lord Gimli so kindly offered, and you have all been very kind. I am sorry that I deceived you both in leaving, and in making my quiet preparations to leave. And I am truly sorry that I put Legolas and potentially other rescuers in danger.” 

“And lied to all of us, again, by pretending to be drunk!” Legolas adds, still displeased. 

“Leave that be, lad.” Gimli tells Legolas, “Faramir can explain that later. Odd as it was, pretending to be drunk in and of itself is not so great a matter.” 

Legolas throws up his hands in frustration, “But it would have been if I'd done it!” 

Gimli shakes his head. “Circumstances under which ye would pretend to such a thing are hard to imagine. And I am quite sure that Faramir will find living up to that particular falsehood to be its own punishment.” 

“It really will be, Legolas.” I say with rueful surety. I do not know many here in Aglarond, but having to deal with dwarves who I do know and respect, such as Lady Vonild and the Lore Master, Dorbryn and my younger acquaintances, who think I have been so stupid as to get drunk and then try to climb up a narrow vent on a dare, well, it will be unpleasant to say the least. 

Gimli seems a bit amused at that. Legolas, not so much. 

“You deserve it!” He insists. 

“Well, there is that,” I concede, at the same time that Gimli clears his throat and reminds Legolas to let me speak. 

“But, Gimli!” Legolas protests, “What about all of the lying, and the preparation! I spent an entire day in the library to keep Faramir happy, and then walked my feet off looking at every vent in the Caverns, all the while he was just planning to just take off as soon as our backs were turned!” 

“You were a very good friend to me, in accompanying me, Legolas.” I say humbly, “And I am sorry for the deception. If it is any comfort, I had not actually decided to leave until yesterday, I just…felt the need to plan to be able to do so, if I had to.” 

I am not sure whether Legolas is feeling at all mollified, but I do need to send word to my contacts in Helm’s Deep that they are not to worry over my failure to meet with my contact last night. 

I reach into my tunic pocket for the letter I had prepared for Baldred just in case my escape from Aglarond was unsuccessful. 

“This needs to be sent to Baldred in Helm’s Deep.” I state, passing the unsealed letter to Gimli, “He was to meet me last night, and I do not want him to panic, and pass on an alert to someone else in our network of contacts in Rohan.” 

Gimli is looking at the letter with a frown. 

“It won’t make much sense without knowing that it is coded to a particular Rohirric ballad,” I add, “Otherwise it just reads as a follow-up on Skari’s request that Eoblod provide Aglarond’s library with certain types of parchment and ink.” 

Gimli looks as if he might have a headache. Legolas, again, appears incensed. 

“THIS is what you were doing in the LIBRARY!” He exclaims, clearly appalled. 

I sigh. “Yes. I am sorry. I hope that you will accept my apology eventually, my dear friend. But I know that I have abused your trust and kindness most appallingly.” 

To Gimli, I offer, “I will translate the letter for you, if you wish. And let you read my other outgoing correspondence, save that…” 

Gimli is shaking his head before I can finish qualifying that. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Faramir, provided that you will give me your word, again, that you will not try to leave Aglarond again without my knowledge, or scheme to do so, by letter or otherwise.” Gimli eyes me narrowly, “Your earlier trickery does not speak well of your ability to keep your word, Faramir.” He adds. 

I feel the blow of that, and know that I deserve the criticism, as hard as it is to hear from a friend I so respect. “I know. I...as I said I am accustomed to having to be prepared to defy orders I've been given. It is easier to do so if I never actually swore to obey them in the first place.” 

Gimli accepts that with a nod. “Can I rely on your word, now that you have given it?” He asks. 

To my shame, it is a fair question. “You may.” I affirm, adding, “If something were to happen, some new information to come to light, which would change my ability to feel I can keep my word, I will come to you first - as I should have done yesterday- to present my case and consult you and Legolas for your opinions - which I do respect. If I am not happy with whatever conclusion is reached, such that I would try to leave with your permission again, then I will withdraw my parole. At that point you could have me locked in a cell if you wish.” 

I feel badly, as it seems I have given Gimli a headache. He is rubbing at his temple as he tells me, “I do not think that would be necessary, Faramir. You are not on parole, you are not a prisoner here.” 

Ostensibly, I am a guest. And my friends, whom I do regard as dearly as kin, have made me feel welcome. But a guest who is not permitted to leave is not so very different from a prisoner. And perhaps as much trouble to keep. “If you would prefer, I could leave for Rivendell, so that I do not further abuse your hospitality.” 

“That is not what I meant!” Gimli says firmly, eyeing me with more disfavor than he has heretofore. “I told your father that I would keep you safe, Faramir! It is an oath I took seriously, and one I mean to fulfill.” 

“My father would not blame you for this,” I assure him. 

“Of course not,” Legolas says acidly, “Estel will blame you, Faramir. As well he should! We all understood your choice to journey here with Gimli as your having agreed to STAY here, as Aragorn commanded you to! Gimli shouldn’t have had to play prison guard, while you went along scheming as if we were the Enemy or the Haradrim, rather than your friends! I shouldn’t have had to baby-sit you, as if you were an intransigent elfling who might run off like a fool!” 

I wince at that, for it is all true. My heart feels heavy with guilt. It is hard to keep my composure, but doing so is too long held a habit. I take a ragged breath, and apologize again. “I’m sorry for all of the trouble I put you both through. It was very badly done of me. I know that I led you all to believe that I had given my word to stay. I know that I have broken your trust by trying to leave. I have promised not to do so again, and I will keep that oath.” 

Legolas snorts disbelievingly. 

“I believe ye, Faramir lad,” Gimli says quietly. “But we’ve more to talk about than just that. I’d like to know what ye were thinking climbing alone up a tunnel ye’d never been up before? Then wandering around the cliff side of a mountain in the dark? Ye could have been seriously injured, lad, or even gotten yourself killed. If my guards hadn’t found ye, then ye may well have!” 

“Or someone could have been seriously harmed rescuing me if-when- I ran into trouble.” I add, guilt gnawing at me again as I think of Legolas, with his fear of close spaces, having to climb that narrow tunnel to come to my aid. I had known that climbing the vent would be dangerous. I have enough experience with climbing to know that. I’d weighed the danger against my worry that my absence would make things worse in Gondor and – or - that the will o’ the wisp threat posed that the suspicious merchants could not be adequately dealt with by others in their own time. I hadn’t truly planned to fail in my escape attempt by getting caught and needing rescue. I’d planned that I might get caught, but not that anyone else would be at risk. I should have thought of that, and if I’d realized it, I almost certainly would not have tried to leave that way. I might have tried to leave using one of my two alternative escape strategies, but one of them was worse…and…none of it was worth the cost. If only I had thought it through more rationally before acting, then no one would have had to have been at risk. 

I turn again to Legolas, “I am sorry, my friend, to have put you to the pain and trouble of climbing up after me.” 

Legolas snorts again, and then his expression softens slightly. “You acted extremely foolishly, Faramir, but in truth I was most relieved to find you well, if…acting very strangely.” 

“Yes, I…” Gimli may not care about the pretend drunkenness, but I know that Legolas is upset about it, and he deserves an explanation “A drunken idiot doing something foolishly dangerous on a dare is not particularly remarkable, especially on a holiday. A guest of the Lord of Aglarond trying to leave in such a covert manner – that would raise questions. I thought it better to provide a more normal explanation. I did not intend to deceive either of you further at that point – I did not mean for you to believe that I was drunk. I …I did not intend to bring up Boromir’s name, in establishing that cover story. I just did not want to damage Gimli’s reputation.” 

“I’ll thank you to have a better care of your skin and your promises, Faramir, rather than worrying over reputation.” Gimli says sharply. 

What is there to say to that? “Yes, Lord Gimli.” 

Gimli considers me silently for a moment. I cannot think of any other apology to give beyond those I have already offered. It has never been my experience that pleading for forgiveness helps anything. I had not really expected to try to escape, when first I accompanied my friends to Aglarond. After I decided to leave, I did not in truth give much thought to what would happen after I was caught. Gimli and Legolas have seemed very content and in their element here, with their family, and my presence has seemed more a wrong, discontented note than a pleasure to them. I had planned to be off to Helm’s Deep and then Gondor, and trouble them no further. I knew that they would be disappointed and hurt, but I had thought that they would quickly settle back into their routine after my departure. I had not planned on being caught – most of even my ill-considered plans tend to work out. 

If it had not been for the uncovered vent, this one might have, as well. Although whether that would have been a good thing or not, I am not sure. In truth, the vent – and poor Legolas’ pains in retrieving me – may have been the better thing, in the long run. My father will, I think, be happier with an aborted escape than my wandering around Gondor. And staying here would have been the better decision, for all of the reasons I have already considered, but I did not realize that until Legolas risked injury to come up and free me. Well, I did not actually realize that until I was violently ill last night. I like to think that I would have come to my senses and returned to Aglarond, even if I had made it to Helm’s Deep. But I probably would not have. I probably would have ended up making my way back to Minas Tirith, and making my explanations eventually to Aragorn. Whether or not my surprise presence would have proven to be of aid to the investigation, he would not have been pleased. But I have displeased him before, and lived to tell of it. I truly have no idea what Gimli will order be done with me. 

“I’m glad that ye’ve realized that ‘twas foolish and poorly done of ye to try to leave, especially after pledging by yer actions – if not your words - that ye would bide with us until this matter was settled.” Gimli says at last. “I know that ye truly mean your apologies, Faramir. But I dinna think an apology is enough, here.” 

“I…” I begin to tell him that I understand, even as my stomach clenches in worry, but Gimli does not seem to require a response from me. 

“Lamb,” He addresses Legolas instead, “Do ye go and keep Mam company at Dorbryn’s. They will be pleased to see ye, I am sure.” 

 

he wastes no time in making himself scarce. Legolas’ anger this morning has pained me greatly, particularly as I have deserved it, but now that he is gone I almost miss his straightforward upset. It can be hard for me to read Legolas at times, but it is harder for me to read Gimli, especially just now. I cannot disagree that he is owed more than an apology and an explanation, but I do not know what more he will demand. I am in his power here, both by Aragorn’s implicit command and also as a practical matter. That is frightening to me, but I do my best to remain calm. I am very fond of Lord Gimli and as a general matter I trust him. But I would not feel comfortable even with my father in this situation. The only living person I trust completely is my wife. 

Rather to my relief, Gimli’s gaze when I look up to meet his eyes does not seem angry. Irritated, certainly, and he is stern as he asks, “I am sure ye paid great attention to what exactly your father said, when he told ye to heed me as ye would him.” 

I wince internally. “Yes.” I agree, taking a deep breath to calm myself. I had paid very careful attention indeed, and then answered that directive with a non-committal pleasantry. It had worked – Aragorn had assumed my agreement and moved on without my actually having had to promise anything. But I knew that it had been Aragorn’s will that I listen to Gimli, and obey him, as if he were my King. To be fair, I likely would have circumvented Aragorn’s will in a similar way if I had stayed in Minas Tirith, or gone to Rivendell, but I knew that Aragorn had only granted me his leave to accompany Gimli to Aglarond on the understanding that I would heed Gimli as I would Aragorn himself. And disobeying a royal command carries a price. 

“Aye, I’m sure that ye did.” Gimli observed, with a scolding look for my artful evasion of actually having made the promise I allowed my father – and Gimli – to believe that I had made. “What would your father’s answer be, to your foolish acts of last night?” 

I feel both hot and cold as I answer him, “He would likely have me paddled.” That had been his answer, to my playing bait to draw out the assassins. And that had been his threatened response, to my continuing to disobey his will in respect of being accompanied by his guards in the city and otherwise when I am not with a sufficient number of armed persons whom he trusts. “I am not sure what else he would do.” I add honestly. Sending me away from Minas Tirith had been, I believe, more for my supposed protection than a punishment, although it has been a very onerous punishment indeed. 

“In that case, ye shouldn’t be much surprised at what I’m planning to do with ye.” Gimli walks toward a chair, pulling up one sleeve as he does so.


	6. Chapter 6

Shocked even though he is right that I should not really be, I stay rooted to the floor for a moment. I had never really considered that Gimli might spank me. He had threatened to do so once before, just before the destruction of Minas Ithil, but I had not thought him serious about it. Nor had I really thought through the implications of agreeing to heed him as I would my father. I do not think it is an unfair consequence for my actions. If anything, it is a generous one – or at least far kinder than drawing up a warrant for my execution. 

Still, I cannot help that my eyes go to his rather large hands, and my mind insists on playing back Legolas’s cries from those times when we have been in such close quarters that complete privacy was not possible for his chastisements. I had truly worried, some of those times, that Gimli might be abusive towards his ward, but that was before I came to know them both better. The love and trust between them is such that I know Gimli would never do any real harm to the elf whom he cares for like a son. But still, I am afraid even as I lambast myself for being a coward. Legolas is much stronger than I, and if he cries out so during his punishments than I am sure this will be remarkably unpleasant, even if it is no more than my due. 

“Faramir?” Gimli prompts, seeming impatient but still not angry. 

“Ah…yes, sorry.” I apologize, as I take a deep breath and force myself to walk towards him. Then I hesitate again. I do not want to make him angry – or angrier – but….

“The door…ah, it is right there, Lord Gimli.” I point out as humbly as possible, not wanting someone to come in from the hallway, as unlikely as that might be with both Lady Vonild and Legolas away, but Dwalin has certainly entered in the past without feeling the need to knock. True, it had been at times when he had been expected, to meet with Lady Vonild or Lord Gimli, but…

“No one is going to come in, lad, but if it makes you feel better,” Gimli gestures toward Legolas’ bedroom where I have been sleeping. Torn between relief and apprehension, I follow him there. He sits down on the edge of the bed, and I find myself hesitating again. 

“I have a brush, it is on the table.” I point out softly, “It might be easier if I were to lean over the desk….” 

“Not your decision, Faramir.” Gimli tells me sternly. 

“I’m sorry.” I say miserably, hoping that he will not take further offense. 

“’Dinna worry about it, lad. Let’s just get this over with.” He says, his voice lower, almost as if he is trying to be calming. 

I walk to his side and untie the laces of my leggings, fumbling a bit. My face feels like it is on fire as they fall to my knees. I begin to lean forward, and then Gimli catches me around the waist with one strong arm and tugs me into position. My tunic and undershirt are tucked up and my backside bared before I’ve even accepted what is happening. I am blushing so fiercely that I think my face will burst into flames. Gimli has seen me naked before, bathing or changing in close quarters or swimming, but this is different. I know have thoroughly earned this spanking, though. I take a deep breath and resolve to do my best to take it well. 

To my surprise, I feel Gimli’s hand come to rest gently on my back. 

“Faramir,” He says in a low kind voice, the same voice he uses with Legolas when our friend is injured or upset, “This willna’ be pleasant, but ye know that I would never harm ye.” 

I am so puzzled that I almost turn to look at him, before remembering that he has just seen the scars. He has seen them before, but…it is different. 

“I am not a fragile flower, Lord Gimli.” I assure him rather tartly, feeling both rueful irritation at the intimation that I am weak, and yet at the same time comforted that he would care enough to worry about my state of mind. 

“No, that ye’re not lad, that ye’re not.” He agrees with a light chuckle. He wastes no more time. I feel his nearer arm across my back, holding me in place, a rush of air as his hand goes back, and then a very firm swat as it lands. Despite my intention to take the punishment well, I cannot stop a slight yelp, but I do manage to hold still as his hand falls again, and again. 

The spanks have a real sting to them and echo loudly in the stone room, but the pain is not as great as I had feared. In truth, it is no worse at first than a spanking from my father - from Aragorn. Quickly enough further reflection becomes impossible, as the heat in my rear builds. It is hard not to try to move out of the way of the heavy swats falling on my buttocks, but I hold to my resolve to be still, bowing my head and clenching my fists in an attempt not to move or cry out. 

Then Gimli begins to spank the undercurve between my bottom and thighs firmly and repetitively. It is the area where I am most likely to feel the spanking when I go to sit, and I cannot quite hold still. I kick one foot against the surface of the bed and at least one of my gasps turns into a soft cry as the heat builds. I yelp in truth as the swats move to my thighs, surprised at the sharp pain of that even though the slaps themselves are lighter. Aragorn does not generally spank me there, although Boromir and my Captains had, and a number of the officers whom my father – Denethor- had ordered to punish me had not hesitated to belt my thighs as well as my buttocks and back. 

It takes me a moment to realize that Gimli’s hand seems to have stopped falling. 

“L…Lord Gimli?” I ask, confused, but trying to keep my voice steady despite incipient tears. 

“All over, Faramir.” Gimli tells me. The arm that had been holding me in place is gone. His hand pats my shoulder gently. 

“That…Aragorn would have…are you sure?” I ask, rather incoherently. Yes, the spanking had hurt quite memorably, but that was not nearly the level of pain I would have expected for the gravity of my misdeeds.   
“We’re done, lad.” Gimli says firmly. 

Blushing again to realize the position that I am in, I do not protest again, but concentrate on getting to my feet and righting my clothing as quickly as I can. Gimli offers me a hand getting to my feet. 

“I am sorry, Lord Gimli.” I tell him again, looking to his feet rather than his face. He reaches out a hand to pat my shoulder again. It is an effort to hold still for him to do so. 

“Ye are forgiven, lad. I won’t bring up the subject again.” He tells me kindly. 

I nod gratefully. 

After a few minutes, Lord Gimli leaves me to my thoughts, which are still unsettled. I miss the windows and balconies of Minas Tirith and Emyn Arnen. Staring at stone walls is not as comforting, or conducive to thought, as staring out a window. I rub my arms, beginning to feel chilled – well, at least most of me feels chilled. The air here in the Glittering Caves is pleasant, but colder than I am accustomed to. 

It is difficult to focus my thoughts. I feel rather disconnected, still guilty and bruised and even more uncomfortable than I was before. I am accustomed to having a purpose, and to being at peace with my companions. While I do feel somewhat less guilty, thanks to Gimli’s having punished me and assured me that he has forgiven my betrayal and disobedience, I am still not at peace. Legolas is still angry with me, and for good reason. And, I do not know as I can truly believe that Gimli considers the matter over. Aragorn likely would, although he would not have gone so easy on me. 

Still, Aragorn has let me off lightly before, himself, on occasion, and still considered the mater truly over. Of course, he will still bring up my mistakes whenever he feels the need to point out that I am not so careful or wise as he, but in general, even after having disappointed my father’s standards to the extent that he must take to task for it in that way, he is amenable to being pleasant company afterwards. We can move on as if we are still friends, still family. I am not sure that will be the case, here. The only people I truly know here are Legolas and Gimli, and I have offended both of them. 

I feel exhausted, yet I still care deeply that I may well have lost the companionship I had found here. Not just Legolas and Gimli, but also Lady Vonild and Dorbryn and her charming son Greirr. I do not feel as if I can presume upon their hospitality if my company is a burden to Gimli and Legolas. And I would miss them, all of them, very much. 

Eventually, I force myself to sit down and work on correspondence. Sitting is more than a little uncomfortable. Gimli did not spank me as forcefully as Aragorn most certainly would have, but it was still a thorough enough spanking that sitting will not be comfortable for some hours yet. And confessing to Aragorn in writing the choices that I have made and the ways in which I have disobeyed him and betrayed his trust as well as that of our dear friends is even worse. At best, my father will be angry. I’m sure he’ll be at least a little bit angry. Even worse, he may be worried that I do not trust him, or think that I need to see a mind-healer again. I think I hope that he is just angry. 

Just as I have finished the letter, I hear the sound of doors opening and closing and Legolas and Vonild greeting Gimli. I do not feel ready to face anyone. Not that putting it off will help matters, but…I feel even more out of place than I have in past days. Perhaps it would be better if I were to offer to move to other quarters? Having given my word to Gimli not to leave the caves again without his permission, there is no reason for me to remain here, particularly as I have upset my friends. Some distance might be best for all of us. I resolve to offer to move to guest quarters elsewhere in the caves. 

I ponder returning to my letters, but I have already written down everything I can think of in terms of my thoughts on what should be done in Gondor, both regarding the assassin investigation and more routine matters. There is nothing more for me to do. I had not intended to try to leave Aglarond. Truly, I had just wanted a back-up plan in case I felt that I had to do so, but planning for that, and writing my letters to Aragorn and my staff regarding what is to be done in Gondor had kept me busy. Able to keep going, and to enjoy some of the pleasant things about being here. I have apologized to Gimli and Legolas, and taken the punishment meted out by Lord Gimli as my fair due. There is nothing left for me to do, and I feel oddly bereft and even more adrift. I also feel tired, and sleeping suddenly seems like a good idea. I lie down on my stomach on the bed, and quickly fall asleep despite my continuing physical discomfort and unsettled emotions. 

xxxxx

I do not expect to sleep and yet I obviously do and deeply too. I must have been more effected by the events of last night than I thought, for while I had very much intended to make my views on Faramir’s disgraceful conduct known in no uncertain terms to my hirsute guardian, but I did nothing of the kind. How frustrating that omission is! I wished Gimli to be left in no doubt as to my views on Faramir’s betrayal of our trust for that is clearly what has happened, but instead I fell asleep. But now I intend to have my say for I do not know how Faramir can live with himself having done what he has done.

Faramir gave his word, and to make an oath is a sacred thing at least it is to an elf and aye to a dwarf as well. To betray that oath is a serious business that no honorable person would stoop to would they? 

I would never have thought that Faramir would do such a thing. I thought he had more honor more integrity. A small portion of my mind tells me that, that is truth and that there must have been excellent reasons for doing as he did but I am in no mood to listen to such explanations at the present moment, so instead I fuel my frustrations and anger towards my erstwhile friend by listing all the things that I have done since our arrival to make his stay here more comfortable and easy. Well I might just have saved myself the effort mayn’t I?

Yet despite all of the anger and disappointment I have slept and slept so well that by the time I wake Gimli is already up and gone. I bathe and dress, happy to see that my sleep has had one benefit at least, for the damage to my side which last evening was quite sore is now so much healed as to hardly show on my skin. That at least will please Gimli for I know he does not like my being injured in any way even so mildly as this proved to be.

I hope to meet my guardian in the main room but there is no one there save Mam who wishes me a good morn and bustles off to prepare food to sustain me through the day ahead. Careful questioning elicits the information that Gimli is off dealing with the aftermath of last night’s celebrations.

“Too much beer and too little brain” Mam grumbles. “I am happy to see that ye were too sensible to be dragged into such foolishness that occurred last night. Ye are a good lad.” 

Mam kisses the top of my head and then bids me eat as she puts a full plate of food before me.

I am happy enough to obey although part of my mind bends itself in the direction of my bedchamber where I assume Faramir still lies. I am half way through my meal before he appears, and my temper, which had eased a little under the balm of Mam’s presence, is once more inflamed by Faramir’s arrival. 

Mam fusses over him bringing him food and urging him to eat. I would like to push his deserving head into the porridge bowl and his attempts at apology do nothing to lessen that desire. I have to be careful of course for Mam soon picks up on our ‘falling out’ and I do not wish to bring her wrath down upon my blameless head. I would welcome her disapproval falling around Faramir’s ears but Mam seems oblivious to his deceit and throws me a frown when she catches me snapping at him.

Faramir seems to think that by telling Mam that it is ‘not Legolas’ fault’ that we are at odds will make me think more kindly but all he achieves is to make me even angrier with him. 

I am in no mood to hear him, and anyway it is not me he should be apologizing to but Gimli. Gimli is the one who has suffered here and who has had his orders as lord of his demesne flouted so egregiously.

In the end Faramir gives up on trying to engage me in conversation and we lapse into an uneasy silence making Mam roll her eyes at and mumble about ‘foolish children,’ which I think is very unfair. I am not the one at fault here!

Gimli returns while we are still at the table ostensibly eating first meal although Faramir seems to do nothing more than push his food around on his plate in the hope that everyone will believe he is eating something. Since this is a ploy I sometimes use I am interested to see it from the other point of view. No matter how clever and subtle you think you are being it is blatantly obvious to the observer what is really happening. I must remember that in future. 

Eventually, Faramir gives up on the pretense and while Gimli smokes a well-deserved pipe, we help Mam with clearing the table and washing up.

Obviously, sensing that there is something more amiss than a falling out between friends, Mam announces that she is off to visit Dorbryn so the three of us are left whereupon Faramir begins his attempt at a defense for his actions of last evening again. Had he intended to make me angrier and more determined than ever to seek revenge for my dwarf he could not have gone about it in any better manner.

Faramir calls upon all kinds of excuses, most of which are just plain ludicrous in my opinion, yet when I attempt to call him upon them, I am bidden to hold my tongue and whenever my frustration boils over and I find it impossible to remain silent I am called to account for it!

I gain some small sense of satisfaction to know from the way the conversation is going that Faramir will at least face some consequences for his actions last night and his deceit towards us both since our arrival in Aglarond. It is small comfort but at least he will not escape entirely from his having caused me to be dragged all over the Glittering Caves and spending a whole day incarcerated in the library so he could write a coded letter to one of his ‘spies’! But I fear that he will still get off far too lightly. I know the penalties I would be called upon to endure and can only hope that Faramir is given a taste of dwarven medicine which will make him think twice in the future to abuse my Gimli so.

Of course eventually I open my mouth one time too many and am sent off to join Mam. I would prefer to remain so that I can witness what I hope is about to take place but Gimli will not allow it and so I find myself pushed out beyond the main doorway. I briefly consider listening at the door, but since this is an open hallway and the door is solid oak the likelihood is that that all I would achieve is a sore ear and a bad back so I make off down the hall muttering to myself on the unfairness of life.

I have almost reached Dorbryn and Thorûr’s quarters when I see Dwalin ahead of me. He is obviously making for the same destination for he knocks in a perfunctory manner on the entrance lintel before entering without waiting for a response. Well, that means I cannot go in, for Dwalin and I do not get on and I am in no mood to listen to his disparagement of my father and my folk without making a response in kind which I know Gimli would not approve of and more than that I will not embarrass Mam or Dorbryn by arguing in their home. So I retrace my steps and open the door to Gimli’s quarters as quietly as I can.

The main room is empty but the sounds coming from my bedchamber are all too familiar to me. Part of me glories in the distress I hear but another- perhaps the better part of my conscience- reminds me that Faramir always gives me as much privacy as he can when I am similarly occupied and no matter how much he deserves to be in this position I find I cannot bring myself to glory in his discomfort so I retreat to the hallway again and then am at a loss as to what to do next.

I see Captain Vestri and he waves at me so I cross the hall and join him,

“Lord Legolas, good day to ye. I was wondering if Lord Gimli is available?”

I am tempted but once again my conscience intervenes and so I say that he is busy presently, but that I will tell him that he is looking for him.

“There is no great rush. I just wished to speak with him over what he has decided about all those young idiots who got into trouble last evening. Sometimes I wonder at the sheer stupidity but then we are only young once and no harm done in the main. How are ye this morning?”

“Me?” I realize he is speaking of my climb up the air vent, “I am fine” I tell him.

“And how is Lord Faramir?”

I cannot stop myself looking back at the door of Gimli’s quarters, “He is discussing the events of last night with Lord Gimli I believe.”

“Is he indeed?” Vestri seems to have no trouble interpreting this comment, although he says nothing more other than to ask what I am doing.

“I was just on my way to visit with Dorbryn, but Dwalin got there first.” 

There is no need to explain this comment either since Dwalin’s antipathy towards me is well known here in Aglarond.

“Ah, then ye are at something of a loose end now. I am on my way to the armory to run through some drills with our latest recruits,” he tips his head to one side and observes me closely “They are a good bunch of lads to be sure, but most of them were too young to have taken part in the late wars and have no real understanding of the importance of training and preparations. I have been fortunate to watch ye on a few occasions when ye train with Lord Gimli and would be honored indeed if ye would deign to show them some of your weapon routines. It might help ye release some of your physical frustrations as well since ye are cooped up inside so much.” He explains when I frown.

I do not for one moment believe that Vestri thinks my present ill temper is to do with being incarcerated under the mountain as I am for he is far too knowing for that. Gimli would not have made him captain of his guard otherwise. But the opportunity to release some of my anger and irritation in physical activity is too good to miss.

“I would be happy to help out in any way I can,” I reply falling into step with him. “Could you arrange for someone to let Lord Gimli know where I am? He believes me to have gone to his sister and I would not have him wonder what had become of me.”

“Aye I can do that,” this time it is Vestri who looks at the closed door, “In a short while that is. No point in breaking in on his discussion with Lord Faramir is there?”

“No,” I do my best to hide the smirk that tries to break out, “that would be most undesirable.” At least, I add silently for Faramir!

Some of the young dwarves gathered in the armory look a little the worse for wear having been celebrating late into the night no doubt but Vestri seems oblivious to their discomfort and soon has them doing basic warming up work. I go to the far end of the cavern and collect my white knives, which as a courtesy to Gimli I always lodge in the armory on my visits. My bow is also here but I will not need it today although part of me wishes I could strap it on and spend the day out on the plains of Rohan listening to my bow sing.

But that is not going to happen and a work out with my knives will do me good I am sure, for it will at least allow me to work off some of my frustration and anger.

I watch the recruits and see several that I know quite well, including Nyri and a very pale Vili who looks as miserable as Faramir did earlier. I wonder what other steps Captain Vestri has taken to bring his youngest son to a sense of his foolishness of last evening besides making him join the exercises this morning. Nyri gives me a wave as he trots by but Vili, who is struggling at the back, does not seem to notice anyone else he is so caught up in his own discomfort.

Once everyone is loosened up, as Vestri calls it, he asks them all to move to the sides of the hall. 

“I have asked Prince Legolas to show us some of his own folks’ drills so that those of ye that think I am like a slave driver from Harad can see that I am in fact letting ye of lightly.” Here he winks at me before asking me to say how many years I was in training before becoming a fully-fledged warrior. “I ask it of ye because these lads appear to believe that waving an axe in the air a few times warrants them to be given the name warrior.”

I laugh and tell the assembled dwarves that I trained for two hundred years before being accepted in the warrior corps, “and I am still required to drill and train whenever I go home to Eryn Lasgalen so that my instructors can be sure I have not lost my edge.”

“But you are a hero of the Ring War,” one of the recruits calls out.

“Perhaps, but any warrior may lose his fighting skills if they are not constantly honed and practiced. My instructors are very strict as is Lord Gimli who supervises my practices when I am in Ithilien or here in Aglarond. An error or misjudgment could lead to injury or even death for yourself or someone who is fighting by your side. I would not wish it to be someone I cared about who lost their life because I was careless in my practice.”

“Well-spoken Lord Legolas, and I trust some of ye will take note. Now if ye will be so kind as to show us some of your basic drills first.”

I begin with the warm up exercises I have been doing for almost six hundred years; balancing on my hands, leaping, flipping and generally working through the muscle groups until they are all loose. Then I move onto the more advanced moves working with my knives. Finally Captain Vestri blindfolds me and I center and calm myself before performing what we call the guruth-rinc where I move through various drills going faster and faster. Gimli says it is like watching a dance but a dance that deals out death, which I suppose is as good a description as any.

As I bring my impromptu display to an end there is an enthusiastic round of applause. I take off the blindfold and bow and then my eye is caught by movement in the doorway standing there is Dwalin.

It is difficult to read his expression but I can guess his thoughts, his dislike of me is so ingrained.

Captain Vestri sensing a problem hurries across to speak with his uncle, telling him that it was by his request that I am here.

“Lord Legolas has worked with our archers before and helped them to improve both their strength and accuracy.”

“Has he?” Dwalin strides into the center of the room then hefts an axe from the hand of one of the watching recruits. He swings the heft and looks directly at me, “then how about we now show everyone how real warriors fight.”

There is no way I am going to back down from this challenge, even if my more sensible side tells me that Gimli would disapprove of my rising to what is undoubtedly deliberate provocation.

I incline my head slightly, “I am at your service Master Dwalin.”

“I do not think …” Vestri begins but Dwalin brushes his objections aside.

“I will not hurt him” he assures his anxious nephew, “too badly” he adds grinning ferociously at me.

I take up my stance watching for an opening. Dwalin is tall for a dwarf and powerfully built but he has not taken into account the number of times I have sparred with Gimli and I will make sure that my speed and agility are put to good use. 

We circle about, each sizing up the other and then Dwalin attacks. I duck under his arm and come up behind him, tapping him with the flat of my knife. He growls as he swings about and comes at me again and we are soon fully engaged

But even as we fight I can tell that Dwalin is not pressing as fully as he is capable of. He is careful not to hit me and when I look at him I see he is smiling. He actually seems to be enjoying our encounter he almost manages to knock me off my feet but I just avoid it by leaping sideways and we are just about to come together again when a commanding voice calls out.

“Enough!”

We break apart as Gimli marches into the hall.

“What in Mahal’s name is going on here?” he demands.

I decide it will be best to let Dwalin answer first.

“Naught but a demonstration on fighting techniques nephew. Nothing for ye to concern yourself over. Yon elf fights well enough, for a pointy ear that is.”

Dwalin hands back the axe he borrowed and turns to address the open-mouthed recruits.

“Mind ye listen to what the prince tells ye and ye might just learn a thing or two. You especially Vili. Ye could do worse than take a leaf out this one’s book” he hoicks a thumb in my direction, then adds speaking directly to Gimli, “ye have taught him well.” 

Then he is gone and I am left staring after him. Have I heard aright? Did he just pay me a compliment?

“Lord Gimli I promise you I had no idea that would happen” Vestri hurries to speak, “I would never have asked Lord Legolas to show us his skills had I thought Uncle Dwalin would turn up as he did.”

Gimli having assured himself that I am well nods, and then dismisses the class waiting until they have reluctantly filed out before speaking again. 

“Well perhaps I am not so sorry that it did” he muses then, “Dwalin seems to have decided that Legolas is none so bad after all, which is a good thing for all of us and will save my elfling from having to dodge about and avoid his company.”

While this description rankles I curb my desire to object to it. If Gimli is prepared to let the ‘fight’ to go unremarked I am not going to argue with him.

“I have tried to tell my uncle that he has misjudged Lord Legolas many times” Vestri puts in “as have my sons. And Lord Faramir spoke with him also, but I had no idea he had listened to any of us. You know how he is. He has to come to things in his own time.”

“Aye, stubborn as a cave troll,” Gimli agrees then turns to me again, “Mind me now, elfling, ye are not to allow Dwalin to inveigle you into a return match. My poor heart canna take it.”

I laugh, “I would not mind trying my hand with Master Dwalin again! Under supervision of course. He has some very interesting moves.”

“Well I have even more think on! Now if ye are done showing off for the day I would like to talk with ye.”

“Talk?” I echo

“Aye, there are things ye need to hear and things I would like to ask ye as well. Come, Mam will be home soon to make the noon meal. Let us walk up on the guard platform for some air first.”

That last suggestion is reassuring. If we are walking in the open it is unlikely that I am in further trouble. No doubt it is Faramir we are going to talk about and I am happy enough to do that and to make my views on his conduct known although that comment from Vestri makes me think. So Faramir has been trying to plead my cause with Master Dwalin has he? I am not certain that I like that, at least


	7. Chapter 7

Gimli does not speak again until we are in the guard station that leads out onto the walkway. Here he hands me a green cloak that must have been left here by a visiting member of the Rohirrim.

“If we should be being observed,” he tells me as he pulls on his own cloak, “they will see only a dwarf and a guard from Helms Deep sharing a watch, something which happens frequently enough not to cause comment, and your golden hair will not stand out either since most of the men from Rohan are fair headed. Straw heads the Dunlanders call them I understand.”

“You think that we may have been followed here?” I ask as I pull the cloak around my shoulders.

“That I do not know Lamb. I am just being careful and I admit some of Faramir’s unease has rubbed off on me. Better to take no chances.”

We walk out onto the walkway together looking down into the vale where only a few years ago we had watched the Uruk army approach. I welcome the breeze and the fresh air and let my eyes go up to the sky to watch the clouds scudding by. I wonder how things are in Ithilien and what if anything Aragorn has found out about the would be assassins. As ever Gimli seems capable of reading my mind, which admittedly he often comments is fairly empty as far as common sense is concerned at least.

“I have already sent a bird to Gondor to ask for an update on the situation and to encourage Aragorn to keep us more informed. I should have seen that Faramir was worrying himself over what was happening.”

Hearing the concern in his voice I hurry to reassure my dwarf, “Whatever worries he had, Faramir had no business I breaking his oath to you and Aragorn.”

“Nay Lamb, do not let us go back over that. Ye have an excellent memory when it suits ye, and Faramir said to us both this morning that he made no oath. Think what did Faramir actually do and say in that last meeting with his Ada?”

I close my eyes and let my mind go back to the scene in Aragorn’s chambers after Gimli had made his offer for Faramir to join us in Aglarond.

Aragorn was agreeable to the idea I hear him saying that it suited him ‘but only if you agree to listen to Gimli and heed him just as you would me.”

And now I recall Faramir’s response ‘I will go with Lord Gimli. As he says it is closer, and I would enjoy spending time with him and Legolas as well and it will be a good chance to experience the famous dwarven hospitality I have heard so much about.’

“He did not give his word but merely accepted your invitation.” 

“Aye just so, which is as he told us earlier. He has a quick way with words,” Gimli growls, “too clever by half is that Foxling.”

“That still does not excuse what he did. He abused your trust Gimli at the very least and deliberately made a fool of me.” I spit out my anger is rising again, “Faramir had no intention of remaining with us here in Aglarond at all. He must have been planning to leave all along.”

Gimli gives this accusation some thought, “Well, perhaps it was in his mind. We dinna know him as well as we think Lamb, and we should not jump to conclusions. But he is a complicated character, and has learned over the years to keep his thoughts and intentions well hidden from those that might attempt to prevent him doing what he thinks is best. And if ye remember, ye were less than happy yourself when I dragged ye away from Ithilien and had ye been able to persuade me ye would have stayed in Minas Tirith to hunt out the villains for yourself.”

“I did not almost kill myself while trying to escape,” I huff, not appreciating being reminded of my precipitate departure from Ithilien and my less than sterling conduct and trying to bring the conversation back to the iniquities of Faramir son of Aragorn. “And I have as much right as Faramir to want to take part in finding out who is behind the attempts on our lives” I put in, “but I at least have not abused your generosity and hospitality and I would not have done what Faramir attempted even had I not given my word to remain here.”

Gimli pats my hand, “Aye and I appreciate the fact that ye have accepted your lot and not sulked or grumbled at being incarcerated here and I know as does young Faramir that ye have done your best to keep him busy and contented but it was not to be and we might have seen it coming had we been a little more aware.”

“I do not see how.”

“Listen to me Lamb. I felt as ye do. I was disappointed and angry but having spent time with him this morning, and believe me he has paid a harsh price for his disobedience,” he says.

“Good!” I growl, though Gimli ignores me. I am not so resigned to forgiveness after all and Faramir deserved whatever he got in my opinion for placing himself at risk and for leaving me in ignorance. Had he confided in me I might even have helped him. Gimli does not need to know that of course. In fact it will be a great deal better for everyone if he never hears of it so I remain silent and my dwarf continues undaunted, “but then I thought of what Aragorn said to me before we left Minas Tirith about the life Faramir led when Denethor was still alive, the lad was tempered in a hard school with few who loved or cherished him and once Boromir left the Citadel he had no one to turn to for support. He had to live on his wits, and did not just face the dangers we all did which were onerous enough, but had to put up with a father who found fault in all he did and did not hesitate to mete out punishment for any perceived shortcoming. Ye have seen the physical scars left on his body for yourself Lamb and the mental scars run just as deep I doubt not. What is more Faramir has been forcibly separated from his wife and son. He is bound to be worried about their safety …”

I let Gimli talk on, but I say nothing, for while what he says is true I am still disinclined to be forgiving towards someone who has abused the hospitality of my guardian and made me look a fool by dragging me all over the cave system all the while looking for a way out. 

“… can ye not forgive him Lamb?”

I shrug, and my guardian gives me one of his looks and I shuffle my feet knowing that I am disappointing him by my refusal to accept that Faramir may have had good reasons to try what he did. My faulty conscience reminds me just when I would rather it did not that I know as Gimli does not that Faramir still plays a very active role in Gondor’s spy network. Of course he would wish to be involved in examining the evidence as it was brought in to Aragorn. He very well may have spotted something that others less accustomed to such activity might miss. Of course I do not want to acknowledge this and without betraying Faramir’s trust I cannot mention it to Gimli, although I might speak with Faramir and suggest he let Gimli know of his role as spymaster.

Finding that I am beginning to sympathize with Faramir makes me want to be angry all over again but it is harder now that I have had time to think and to realize that given the circumstances I might well have done something similar. I cross my arms and turn to stare out across the Deeping Coomb. Once more my thoughts skittering along many paths. How would I have fared under the parentage of such a one as Denethor, to find myself unloved, suspected, belittled? Would I have turned into such a resilient character as Faramir? I would like to think so but who can tell …

Gimli must think that I am still brooding for he carries on attempting to persuade me to think better of his reluctant guest and that is unfair to him if nothing more for he must be truly tired of dealing with foolish younglings such as Faramir and me, not to mention all of last night’s shenanigans. When I turn back to him I see how tired he is looking and how anxious which makes me feel guiltier than ever. I place a hand on his shoulder.

“I am sorry to have been such a bear Gimli. It ill becomes me to continue my anger against Faramir when you, who have had so much more reason to be angry, have already forgiven him. You do not deserve all the trouble we have brought you.”

“Now none of that lad. None of us deserve the trouble we have found. It is those who would harm the pair of ye who are to blame for the situation we find ourselves in, not you or Faramir. Perhaps if we all speak together, clear the air between ye and Faramir and then turn all our efforts towards helping Aragorn finding out who is at the back of all this trouble we will all be happier. What do ye say to that?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” I answer and I am rewarded with a warm smile which sets my world to rights again. I hope the upcoming conversation with Faramir proves to be as rewarding. 

Xxxxxx

 

After finally having coerced my disgruntled elfling into a slightly better humor, I follow him back home where we can hopefully finally put everything right. I for one am ready to move forward and forget the events of last night for I have had just about my fill of dealing with thoughtless, overly passionate youngsters for a while. It seems to me I haven’t had a day of peace since the day Captain Galathil arrived here with the message that Legolas had been hiding the fact that his life was being threatened. Since then it has been one thing after another until I have begun to have the unworthy thought that perhaps it is not too late to send them both to Rivendell! 

Of course I do not really mean it, but still I am more than ready to see an end to this particular drama. Now that Legolas has agreed to at least attempt to speak to Faramir and clear the air, I hope for the return of peaceful conditions all around. It may be a vain hope, considering the lads in question, but I have always been an optimist! 

When we arrive back to my chambers, we find the main room empty. Mam has not yet returned and a quick peek into Legolas’ chambers reveals that Faramir is sleeping, no doubt exhausted from such a trying day. Rather than wake him, I sit down and fumble for my pipe. Evidently keen to please me, my lad finds my flint and pipeweed for me and doesn’t even complain about the smell when he sits next to me to wait. Waiting is not exactly his strong suit, however, and soon it becomes obvious that he is anxious for Faramir to join us. Having made the decision to ‘clear the air’ he seems impatient to do so. 

“Should I wake him?” he asks nodding toward the closed bedchamber door. “It is nearly mid day.”

“Nay, lamb, let us leave him be for now,” I say, “He is no doubt worn out for he has had a difficult couple of days.”

“It is his own doing…” Legolas begins, but then changes his mind when I let out an exasperated breath. “Sorry Elvellon. You are right of course.”

“And don’t ye forget it, elfling!” I chuckle as I pat his knee, “And have some compassion. Ye should know as well as anyone that Faramir is likely feeling a little fragile just now, emotionally as well as physically, and him here without the folks he’s used to turning to in such situations. Even if he did cause some of his troubles himself it is up to us to be good supportive friends, something that I know ye wish to do. He has been a good friend to both of us after all. Has he not been kind to ye when ye’ve caused trouble for yourself?”

He flushes a little at this reminder, but nods in agreement. “He has, and I will do my best, I promise.”

“I know ye will, and that is all I ask,” I say, “ye are a good lad.”

As ever my approval seems to please him greatly and he smiles a little shyly and then rests his head on my shoulder as I continue to smoke and watch the flames flicker in the fireplace. It is good to enjoy a few peaceful moments with my lad now that he has let go of his indignant attitude and righteous rage, something that I very much hope continues through the discussion that we will be having very soon with Faramir. I have just tapped the ashes from my pipe and closed my eyes in an attempt to ease the ache that has formed behind my eyes when I hear a voice cry out. I sit up, startled to realize that it is coming from Legolas’ bedchamber. 

Legolas and I exchange glances then hurry to open the bedchamber door to find that Faramir is still sleeping, but he is writhing and tossing from side to side, clearly trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Legolas steps forward as if intent on waking him, but I take him by the arm to prevent him, thinking that Faramir may not be quite up to facing the lad just at the moment. 

“I will see to him,” I say, and gently push Legolas back out of the room and close the door behind me. Without bothering to light the lamp, I sit on the side of the bed, which evidently awakens Faramir, who sits suddenly upright with a startled cry. His eyes are wild with fear, but when he spots me sitting there he stuns me by throwing himself toward me and wrapping both of his arms tight around me. Automatically I return the embrace, pulling his head down against my shoulder and stroking his hair. I can hear him gasping for breath and feel his heart pounding madly as he clings to me as if he is drowning in a vast sea and I am the only raft. 

“Easy now, Faramir, it was only a dark dream,” I say in an attempt to calm him, “ye are safe and all is well. Take a deep breath, slowly now.”

He obediently takes a long ragged breath and I feel him relax beneath my hands, though he does not raise his head or loosen the grip he has on the back of my shirt. 

“There’s a good lad,” I encourage him. “Now once more…that’s it.”

I continue to hold him close and whisper soft reassurances until finally his trembling calms and he relaxes his clenched fists. Still he doesn’t release me, but actually sighs as if in relief and buries his face deeper into my shoulder. I feel his hand running over my back and then reaching up to touch my hair until he grabs hold of my back braid. I feel his hand slide down the long length of my braid and then he suddenly drops as if it has burned him. I feel him stiffen in my arms before he abruptly sits up straight and leaps backwards. 

“Lord Gimli!” he exclaims, “I didn’t meant to…that is I thought you were…”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at his lap, flushing miserably. 

“Ye thought I was someone else,” I finish for him, speaking softly. I admit to wondering who he thought I was. Aragorn perhaps, even Boromir…surely not Eowyn? But it does not really matter and so I do not ask. 

He nods, whispering, “I am sorry.”

I reach out to pat his knee. “There is no reason to be sorry, Faramir. Anyone could have a dark dream, and it is perfectly natural to seek consolation from someone you trust. There is no shame in that ye know.”

“I suppose not,” he says, “but still, you are not…who I first thought… and I should not have…imposed myself on you like that. Forgive me, my lord.”

I can’t help chuckling at his courteous turn of phrase. He always seems to fall back on becoming overly formal in times of distress.

“I didna’ mind a bit, laddie, so ye mustn’t worry over it. What are friends for after all if we canna offer one another a bit of comfort from time to time? I would have done earlier if ye had allowed it, ye know.”

He looks up at me somewhat searchingly and again I have the feeling he wonders if I am in earnest or if I am poking fun at him. I offer him a fond smile, that I hope will be convincing enough, and am gratified when he half smiles back at me before blushing all over again at the memory of why he was in particular need of ‘comfort’ earlier. In spite of this he clears his throat and courageously looks me in the eye, evidently having gathered his wits. 

“Thank you, Lord Gimli,” he says, overly politely, “I appreciate your consideration, though I am not worthy of it. My behavior was deplorable and my treatment of you and Legolas completely unforgivable. You should have sent me off to Rivendell and into the hands of the irksome offspring of Elrond. It would have served me right for being such an ungrateful wretch.”

“Now none of that, my lad!” I hold up a hand to stop the stream of self-deprecation. “There isna’ a soul alive who hasn’t made a few youthful errors, especially in the name of a good cause and I well know that ye felt strongly that ye your choices were for the best at the time. Not that I’d advise attempting anything so foolish again, ye understand- in fact I strongly insist that ye do not! Still ye have not committed an unforgivable crime, so I’ll thank ye to keep a civil tongue in your head when ye talk about my friends. Is that plain youngling? And if ye ‘My Lord” me again, I swear ye will regret it!”

He laughs at that sounding almost like his old self.

“Thank you for the warning,” he says, “I will keep that in mind.”

“See that you do!” I say. “Now then, do ye want to talk about that dream of yours or would ye rather I offer ye a distraction?”

He gives me an odd look so I explain that it is a choice I have given Legolas under similar circumstances. The lad has been prone to nightmares from time to time since I’ve known him, and sometimes he wishes to talk about them and other times he’d rather turn his mind to something else. He knows that I am available to help with whichever he prefers at the moment. 

“It is a nice gesture,” Faramir says, “but truly I am fine.”

“Aye, I am sure ye are, but that does not answer the question now does it laddie?”

“I suppose not…but…”

“Talk or distraction? Those are the only two options Faramir.”

“Oh! Well in that case, ‘distraction’ I guess.

“Good choice! Let us go talk to Legolas then. It is time that the two of ye cleared the air between ye.”

“That would be distracting,” he admits, wincing at the idea. 

“Aye indeed it would, so let us get on with it…” I start to rise and head for the door, but Faramir calls for me to stop.

“I’ve changed my mind. Let’s talk about the dream,” he tells me, smiling a little so that I believe he is teasing. Still he may be a little in earnest as well, for with the mood my lad was in today I am sure he has not made life pleasant for Faramir. No doubt he would like to avoid further confrontation, but I am done with this debacle and so I tell him. 

“Sorry, lad it’s much too late for that. Ye’ve already chose and the sooner the two of ye talk the sooner we can move forward and think about something else, and I for one am more than ready for that! Besides it willna’ be as bad as ye think. Despite any rumours ye may have heard, my elfling rarely bites.”

Faramir laughs for real at that replying, “That is comforting considering that his glare alone can be pretty painful.”

“Never fear, I will stand between ye and protect ye from the dagger stare. I am immune to it myself.”

And so we are both chuckling when we enter the main room, where we find Legolas evidently engrossed in a book from my bookshelf. The fact that the book is entirely in Khuzdul, which he does not read, and that the subject matter is a detailed guide on how to best cut and polish rare black opals, a topic he has no interest in, lets me know that up until a few seconds ago he was likely listening to my conversation with Faramir. Rather than scolding him for eavesdropping on what was meant to be a private conversation, I merely ask how he is finding the reading material. He flushes but chooses not to answer knowing full well that he has been caught in the act. Of course he knows that I know he cannot read Khuzdul but he looks very much like he’d rather I didn’t point that out in front of Faramir and reveal what he has really been up to. I think about teasing him for a bit longer and keeping him in suspense about whether or not I intend to expose his naughtiness, but then think better of it. There has been enough mischief going around without me adding fuel to the fire, so instead I wink to let him know his secret is safe and invite Faramir to sit with us.

“Lady Vonild is likely to be back very soon, so we had best get settled whatever needs settling,” I tell them. “She does not like to see contention within the family, so the two of ye need to set things to rights before she returns if ye know what is best for ye.”


	8. Chapter 8

[Faramir POV] 

I draw breath to apologize again, but before I can speak, Legolas does. 

“I have already moved past the whole unfortunate affair.” Legolas says grandly. “It is Faramir who insists on agonizing and apologizing repeatedly over such a minor matter.”

“Ah….” I am not sure what to say to that at first, it is rather a reversal from Legolas’ position as of this morning! Gimli hides a chuckle and winks at me, and I think to myself with relief that Gimli was correct in describing Legolas’ temper as quick to rise and quick to fade. “Thank you.” I say humbly. 

Legolas nods regally. Our attention is then drawn to a commotion at the door. Or rather, coming through the door. Not just Lady Vonild, but also Lord Dwalin, Dorbrynn, Captain Vestri’s wife, and a dwarven woman whom I do not recognize but think might be a relative of Vestri’s. 

Vonild and the other ladies greet us very quickly before leaving us for the kitchen. Apparently, Dwalin has volunteered Gimli and Vonild to host a dinner for the extended family this very night. Lady Vonild seems almost flustered, a rare sight indeed! 

From Gimli’s face when he first hears this news, I gather that my friend the Lord of Aglarond hopes that this dinner might mark the end of his elder cousin's visit. He gamely entertains Lord Dwalin though, even seeming to be genuinely drawn in to a conversation about how to recreate a version of the great mirrored wall of black obsidian which had once graced the halls of Khazad-dum. The two withdraw to Gimli’s office to consult history books, which had belonged to his father, leaving Legolas and I alone together. 

Legolas lays his hand gently upon my forearm and meets my eyes. With a somber mien but eyes dancing with mischief, he begins “Faramir, I must apologize for intervening in such a personal matter….” 

I blush to recall that just so had I once inquired of Legolas, in the days before I knew him and Gimli even half so well as I know them now, whether Gimli might have inadvertently done real damage to his charge while meting out a spanking (albeit one which Legolas had very much earned). I blush to hear my words once again parroted back at me, and wonder ruefully if I will ever live down that particular bit of well-intentioned meddling!

Doing his best to hide an impish smile behind a mask of concern, Legolas continues, “But I do know how forcefully and firmly my dwarf can…apply his hand to the cause of meting out justice. I just want to make sure that you were not truly harmed…” 

My elven cousin does this to tease me, and perhaps to get back a bit of his own for my poor treatment of him, and of his guardian. Feeling that he is owed that much, and also being deeply grateful for his forgiveness and pleased at seeing him relaxed enough to bedevil me in such a fashion, keeps me from responding in kind that Legolas should very well know how firm Gimli’s hand can be, for it is upon Legolas’ deserving backside that it most often falls! 

“Nay, cousin. Naught very much more than my pride was harmed.” I answer mildly instead, blushing even more brightly as it is made clear to me that Legolas knows that I was spanked. 

“Are you sure? I know that you are accustomed to being stoic, and Gimli is very strong….” He persists, his tone unctuous and his eyes laughing. 

Enough is enough. My pride might have suffered a well-deserved comeuppance, but not so much that I will not defend myself in kind. “It was no great matter to me,” I say falsely, teasing him back, “For I am a sturdy Man. You are but a delicate elf. It would have been far worse for you, it is no wonder that you should worry for me, and it is quite kind of you, but….”

“Delicate! Why, you…” Legolas tackles me to the floor in lieu of finishing his statement. At first I am laughing too hard to put up much opposition, but I quickly get into the spirit of what turns into a friendly but competitive little wrestling match. 

Unfortunately, one taking place in an improper venue, I realize as we knock over a stone table holding a chess set and the pieces clatter hither and thither. The noise summons Lady Vonild from the kitchen, and Gimli and Dwalin from the study. 

“What in Mahal's name are the two of you doing?” Scolds Lady Vonild, looking quite disappointed in the both of us. 

“'Tis just high spirits.” Dwalin reluctantly defends us. “If you'd had more than one son, Vonild, then you would understand. This is how brothers behave, be they princes or no.” 

Vonild softes a bit at that, but her expression is still quite stern. “That is as may be, but there will be none of that at dinner tonight, is that understood, my dears?” She asks. 

Legolas and I quickly assure her that there will not be. Gimli adds his own assurances on our behalf, along with a swat for each of us as we begin to pick up the room. It isn’t a serious smack, but it has a sting to it. On top of what I'd gotten earlier, it is hard for me to resist the urge to rub at the renewed soreness. 

After that, apparently judging us too troublesome to be left to our own devices, Vonild deviates from her usual rules and allows both Legolas and I to help in her preparations. Dwalin departs and Gimli is drawn in as well. The three of us chop vegetables and move tables and chairs with good humor, each of us I think pleased that there is peace between us again. 

Gimli himself seems quite pleased, teasing us both about how inconvenient it must be to be so tall that our heads get stuck in the clouds, and swatting gently at Legolas’ braids when his elf teases back. It is a great relief to me, still being treated as friend and kin after I have behaved so egregiously. I am a bit quiet, due to being overwhelmed by the events of the day and a still a little uncertain, but everyone is quite kind to me, Lady Vonild, Gimli, and Legolas particularly so. 

Dinner is very pleasant, if a bit overlong for my still tender backside. After dinner, the dwarflings, including Greirr, leave for bed. Nyri leaves for watch duty, tugging along an unhappy and uncomfortable Vili for the unpleasant duty of cleaning cisterns. I feel grateful not to have been assigned to such a noisome task myself. 

Dwalin takes this opportunity to tell us all that he thinks that I should be at least as uncomfortable as Vili if not more so after my adventure of the night before, at which point Gimli clears his throat and changes the subject. 

Dwalin responds by turning his attention to Gimli, and lecturing him for a number of instances of valor during the Quest. I listen to this recitation of events I know very well with new ears, punctuated as it is by Lady Vonild's occasional worried gasps. It had never occurred to me before, but some of Gimli's own actions during the Quest and occasionally afterwards could be considered 'reckless and too dangerous' by someone who had watched him grow up and worried over him during his youth. Legolas certainly seems to find it fascinating to hear Dwalin tell Gimli, in no uncertain terms, that he must be more careful in the future. 

I feel a bit guilty, as it was quite likely my sharing all of these events with the lore master which had resulted in Dwalin's knowing enough about them to scold Gimli. And I don't particularly like to see my friends harangued, so I decide to do what I can to derail the conversation. 

"Personally,” I put in mildly, “I think that decoying a cold drake away from a merchant caravan could be considered somewhat more reckless as any of Gimli's adventures on the Quest." 

The lore master had remembered this bit of information and shared it with me during our discussion of the difficulties of enlarging channels for water in caves, as Dwalin and his brother had once been set to exactly such a punishment task for doing just such a thing. 

A hush descends upon the table. I do not break eye contact with Lord Dwalin, although I am suddenly worried that I may have set back our progress with him, or perhaps that insulting a dwarven elder at the table is just not the done thing, even if he is lecturing one of your friends with information you may have given him (for a different purpose). 

"How in the name of Mahal did ye learn of that?" Dwalin finally says, more incredulous than offended, to my great relief. I explain that it came up when I was discussing with Lore master Gror the possibility of finding - or making - something similar to the hot springs pools we have in Ithilien here in Aglarond. Dwalin denounces the idea as new-fangled foolishness, but not in an angry way. Vonild disagrees and expresses an interest, and Legolas promptly volunteers his assistance in such an endeavor, should Gimli and the other elders be in favor of it. Vestri suggests that Mistress Lilja might like the idea, from the perspective of a healer. From the expression on Legolas' face, I can tell that he would like to withdraw his offer of assistance, if it means that he need have anything to do with Lilja! 

The rest of the evening passes congenially enough, and even more so once Dwalin and Vestri have excused themselves and it is just Gimli's family and Legolas and I. I still excuse myself first, although this time not to scheme about how to leave, but rather just because I am tired and it has been a very long day.

The next morning, we begin our own investigation into who may be plotting our deaths in Gondor, based on everything Legolas and I can remember about everyone we have come into contact with over the past few years who is not well known to us and beyond suspicion. 

My long experience with tracking down truths through testimony, memory, and records serve me in good stead. Gimli has no shortage of patience, either, but it is Legolas who impresses me the most. Perhaps because I did not expect him to be willing and able to sit still for most of a day, attempting to recall minutiae of petitioners and vendors. 

“It seems that ye have finally caught something in your ears beyond fluff, elfling!” Gimli comments, as Legolas remembers that he, too, had refused a petition from a certain merchant to begin mining our lands for precious minerals. 

“I am not entirely useless as ruler of Ithlilien-en-Edhil, Gimli!” Legolas protests. 

Not so long ago, I would have felt the need to leap to Legolas’ defense, sure that this criticism from someone he respects so highly would be hurtful to him. Now I just look up, confident that Gimli will deal with it if it needs to be dealt with. 

Gimli chuckles and pats Legolas on the knee. “Calm yerself, Lamb. Ye are doing very well for your folk in Minas Ithil. Ye make me quite proud, in fact.” 

“My father thinks so, as well,” I tell them, not because I think that Legolas needs to hear it but because I think it would be good for him to know. 

Legolas flushes pink and demurs that he is just doing his best. Gimli and I share a fond smile, and turn back to our work. 

By just after supper, we have a list of over a dozen additional suspects, men and a few women whom we may have offended, or who have reason to think their aims would be better served in our absence.

“I think that we might have solved this already, even from so far away, had we put our heads together earlier.” I marvel.

Gimli snorts. “And I would have just told ye so, had ye bothered to ask, Faramir.”

Blushing at the kindly meant and blessedly vague criticism, I promise that I will try to do better in the future. 

The following days find us dividing our time between continuing our investigation, weapons drills, administration (Gimli, with my occasional assistance with his bemused permission), exploration (Legolas and I), teaching archery to dwarves (mostly Legolas) and other largely enjoyable pursuits. For the first few days, Lady Vonild takes care to keep an eye on me when I am not with Gimli or Legolas, as if afraid that I will find some other foolishness to get into. Legolas finds this quite amusing, and does not hesitate to say so. 

We also attend a number of get-togethers in the evening, some it seems attended by most of Aglarond, and others more intimate. It is one of the evenings when we are invited to one of the latter that I manage to offend my elven friend’s somewhat sensitive adolescent pride.

“It will probably go rather late, and the ale will be flowing!” Vili tells us. “We’ve not invited anyone over the age of sixty, as they tend to dampen the fun.” 

Nyri gives his brother a good-natured shove. “Except for Legolas, of course.” 

“I would be pleased to accept.” Legolas says eagerly. He has become quite fond of Vili since he began tutoring the young dwarf in the ways of the bow. “And Faramir, as well, I am sure, unless he plans to spend his evening hibernating in the library like a mole.” He grins at me challengingly as he says this. 

“I will come, and play the lute.” I have learned a number of rollicking dwarven drinking songs since I arrived, both in Westron and Khuzdul. My playing is welcome enough, but my attempts to pronounce the words in dwarven tongue never fail to send my audience into fits of hysterical laughter. 

“However,” I add, “we should speak with Gimli ‘ere we can say for certain we will join you.” 

Legolas gives me a glare as sharp as a dagger. “In case he has made any plans for us, this evening.” I amend. I’ve made the mistake of taking Legolas to a party before without his guardians’ permission, and I don’t want to do it again. But I’ve also offended Legolas’ pride before, and I had no desire to repeat that, either! 

Gimli gives us his leave, of course, and Vili and Nyri think nothing of it beside a courtesy of guests to their host. Legolas forgives me fairly quickly, and we are at peace again the next day as we look over reports relating to the persons we view as suspicious. We are down to only eight possibilities, five of them also on the list sent by Aragorn. 

Despite his valuable assistance and willing spirit, Legolas does, at one point, fall asleep at the table as we review documents. Exchanging a fond, amused, glance, Gimli and I move him carefully to a settee, and drape one of the blankets Vonild has knitted over him. 

“He looks so young when he sleeps,” I remark quietly, as we return to our task. 

“That’s because he is young, by the standards of his people,” Gimli reminds me. 

Which brings me to a topic that has been on my mind for some time. 

“Gimli,” I begin uncertainly, “May I ask you something?” 

“Anything, Lad.” 

“I would like your advice, with regard to how not to offend Legolas by accident.” 

Gimli chuckles sympathetically. “Well, as much as I’d like to offer ye guidance, for ‘tis a pleasant change for you to be asking for my advice with regard to my elfling rather than offering your own unasked, and painting me the villain besides…”

“Not the villain!” I object, “Merely…”

“Insensitive?” He hazards, raising an eyebrow.

“Coming from a different perspective?” I offer ruefully. 

He smiles at that. “Aye, well, perhaps I am, and I know ye meant well, as does Legolas. As for how to be sensitive to what he’s feeling, well, that’s still a puzzle I am working out myself. My advice, for what it’s worth, would be just to follow your instincts. You’re a good friend, Faramir, and you have a fine mind when you choose to engage it.” 

“Well, thank you, I suppose.” I say wryly. 

“A good start would be to stop trying to protect him from me,” Gimli points out. 

That is good advice. That is one of the times when I am most apt to offend my young-yet-old friend.

“Yes, Gimli, I can do that. I am sorry I have offended thusly, in the past. Now, well, I could never see you being a threat, to Legolas, or to me.” 

“I'm glad of that, lad,” He says warmly, “And I am always happy to lend you an ear, if you ever need to talk.” He fixes me with a firm yet fond stare, “Preferably, before you go off and do something rash.” 

I think of my father, and his rather heated reply to my letter regarding my ill-considered adventure here in Aglarond. “I may take you up on that offer, at some point.” 

Some point comes later that day, when Eowyn’s letters arrive by messenger from Dol Amroth, with sketches of Elboron walking and playing with her and his cousins in the surf. Moments I have missed, because of a man whose name and complaint I cannot even be sure of. 

I don’t do anything rash. I only shout and pace a bit, all of which Gimli and Legolas bear with remarkable patience. Then I feverishly rededicate myself to sorting through all of the information we’ve gathered about events in Minas Tirith. This, too, my friends bear with patience, at least at the first. By the second day, I have moved myself and my research to the library. 

“Come away from that, Faramir. Ye need to eat and rest.” 

“Hmm.” I answer Gimli, not moving my attention away from letters detailing the movements of two different merchants, the miner, and a disgruntled farrier. “I will be along soon.” 

“No. ‘Soon’ was an hour ago. Come along now.” 

“I am well enough, Gimli.” I say, looking up finally. “Please do offer my excuses to Lady Vonild.” 

“Be careful, Faramir.” Legolas says, and I blink at his presence. I had not even noticed that he had dared the library again. “Gimli is not given to third warnings.” He cautions.

Gimli gives Legolas an amused, patient glance. “I give third warnings.” 

“Aye, with the flat of your hand to my backside, you do....” 

I do not really think that Gimli would spank me over a few missed meals while working on such an important matter, but after my earlier experience, I am in no hurry to put that conviction to the test. 

After that I find myself too busy to spend quite as much time in the library. I am pulled into mediating between Lilja, who did find the hot springs idea fascinating, and Legolas, who wanted to help but not to be around Lilja - all the while enduring the amusement of Gimli, who seems to be glad it wasn't him having to handle the situation! I also find myself mediating between Dwalin and Legolas, which situation Gimli told me I had earned by involving myself in the first place. I think that Gimli is still a little sore about having all of his activities in the Quest come to be scrutinized by Dwalin, but I can’t really blame him. Within a few days or so, we are both laughing about it. 

Gimli, Legolas and I continued to spend time sparring, against one another and in groups with the dwarves of Aglarond. The three of us had always fought well together, but I’d often felt as if I were merely a near-adequate stand-in for Aragorn. This time in the caves has given us the opportunity to figure out, in drills and mock engagements, how best to work together in a variety of attack situations, taking advantage of being able to divide the long-range field between two archers and a dwarf with throwing axes. 

The weapons practice is enjoyable and rewarding, an excellent distraction. At the same time, I have the odd feeling that we will be very grateful, soon enough, for having learned to move as a unit. Middle Earth is a much more peaceful place than it once was, so I do not know why I feel this way. But I do, and I am grateful as well for the new closeness between the three of us. I feel as if we will need that, too, in the days to come. 

By the time we finally receive the letter from Aragorn saying that he believes all involved with the plot have been apprehended, I find myself almost sad to leave Aglarond. And I am also worried, for that is not the only news my father's letters bring. The miner who had paid an amazing number of assassins to come after Legolas and me had found financing from a Chieftain in Rhun-a man who had bought slaves from Haashim, the slaver with the Morgul blade whom we had killed in Minas Morgul.

And there are rumors-rumors that fill me with foreboding- that Haashim’s were not the only weapons of the Enemy to have survived his destruction. Perhaps the peace of the last few years have only been the calm before the storm…

But if that is true, if there is something more that must be faced, I take comfort in the fact that at least I will no longer have to face it alone.


End file.
